


Five Times The Doctor Didn't Get What She Was Craving, and One Time She Did

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 5 Times, Bread making, Cunnilingus, F/F, Finger Sucking, First Times, Food Play, Foot Kink, Humiliation, Pining, Predicament Bondage, Rimming, Romance, Slow Dancing, Space Lutefisk, Vaginal Fingering, d/s dynamics, gratuitous food descriptions, hand holding, thigh humping, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22338079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: “I've got a craving, but I’m not sure. I want… something, but I dunno what it is.”“I hate it when that happens,” Yaz agreed. “So any idea at all?”“I’m really not sure,” said the Doctor. “New body,  new cravings. Sometimes they’re cravings for stuff I didn’t like in theoldbody, except now since everything’s changed…” She shrugged.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 113
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Five Times The Doctor Didn't Get What She Was Craving, and One Time She Did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/gifts).



> This was an absolute delight to write. I hope you enjoy it!

1\. Apricot Hamantashen

“I’ve got a craving,” the Doctor said. 

Yaz looked up from her book, sitting up against arm of the squishy purple sofa she had been sprawled out over. “What sort of craving?” She tried not to think about the fact that she was wearing her rather threadbare pajama shorts and an old tank top, or the fact that the Doctor’s eyes seemed to be darting from the long line of her legs to the bare expanse of her arms. 

“I’m not sure,” the Doctor said, and she flopped onto the bit of cushion that didn’t have Yaz’s leg on it. “I want… _something_ , but I dunno what it is.” She managed to look artfully disheveled, because of course she did. 

“I hate it when that happens,” Yaz agreed. She drew her legs back, but then she wasn’t sure what to do with her foot. She didn’t really get a chance to worry about that, when the Doctor took an ankle in her hand, pulling Yaz’s feet into her lap and leaning back into the couch. “So any idea at all?” 

“I’m really not sure,” said the Doctor, and she wrinkled her nose. “New body, new cravings. Sometimes they’re cravings for stuff I didn’t like in the _old_ body, except now since everything’s changed…” She shrugged. She still had her hand wrapped around Yaz’s ankle, and the close proximity was enough to give Yaz goosebumps. 

This would have been a lot less of a problem if Yaz had been wearing proper trousers, and didn’t have all that leg on display. She probably should have pulled her leg back, gone to put on actual clothes, but… well…

There was something going on. Something significant, and sometimes Yaz thought she knew what it was, and sometimes Yaz wasn’t quite so sure. She’d sometimes catch the Doctor looking at her with a particular light in her eye - she was almost certain she’d caught the Doctor checking her ass out at least once, and there had been the time with the low cut top, when the Doctor’s face had turned very red… but still. Yaz didn’t want to be reading into something wrong didn’t want to look silly, especially in the face of the smartest, kindest, bravest person that Yaz had ever known.

… Yaz was willing to admit that she might have had a bit of an infatuation, although she wasn't willing to admit to the scope of it any time other than late at night in bed. Usually with a hand shoved down these selfsame pajama shorts, and the covers pulled over her head. 

“You could try to answer the cravings,” Yaz suggested. “I’ve seen the TARDIS kitchen, you’ve got loads of stuff.” The Doctor was absently petting Yaz’s leg, and Yaz was trying very hard not to squirm. She wasn’t even wearing any _pants_ under her pajamas, if she got too worked up the Doctor would be able to tell and then she might just _die_. 

“Yeah, but I’m not craving an at home thing. I’m craving an… elsewhere thing.” The Doctor waved her hands expansively, and looked at Yax with a hopeful expression. “You know?”

“My mum always used to tell me that we had food at home, if we were in a mood like that,” said Yaz, but she was starting to grin in spite of herself. Her heart was beating very hard, and she was pretty sure that the Doctor could see that her nipples were getting hard through her old tank top, but… well, hopefully the Doctor wouldn’t notice. 

“Well,” said the Doctor, “lucky for us, your mum isn’t here!” Her eyes might have dipped towards Yaz’s cleavage, and she was blushing, but then she was staring squarely into Yaz’s face. 

“Lucky for us,” Yaz agreed, and it felt like she was being let in on a secret when the Doctor grinned. 

* * *

“So where are we going?” Yaz had changed into real clothes, done up her hair, and put on some actual shoes. Comfortable shoes for running, admittedly, because she knew what it was like to go out with the Doctor, but… still. 

Her shirt might have been a bit more low cut than usual, and her trousers might have been a bit tighter, but it wasn’t against any rules to dress up nicely now and again, right?

Her denials sounded pretty weak even in her own head, but she had to hold on to at least a sliver of dignity. 

“I think I want apricots,” the Doctor said. “Well, not proper apricots, I don’t think I like them. Something about the fuzzy skins.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not as bad as pears, though. Don’t know if I’ve ever liked pears.” 

“Why don’t you like pears?” Yaz stood off to the side, watching the Doctor fiddle with the TARDIS console. It was harder to figure out where it was that she… fit, now that it was just her and the Doctor. When Graham and Ryan were around, the three humans had figured out ways to navigate around each other, to get comfortable. When it was just Yaz and the Doctor, it was… different. There was an electricity between the two of them.

Maybe. 

Or maybe Yaz was imagining all of it, and she was just desperate and had a horrible crush. 

“Make my chin all wet,” the Doctor said. “I mean, there’s some situations where I’m all for that, but the payoff with pears is just a sort of sad and squishy. Not worth the chin stickiness.” 

“Right,” Yaz said. The image of the Doctor’s face between her legs, tongue buried inside of her, chin shiny with Yaz’s arousal. A throb of something desperate and hot shot through her, and she shifted, biting her lip.

“The problem with having a new body is that you end up with new _tastes_ ,” the Doctor said, and there was a note of wistfulness creeping into her voice. “A couple of bodies ago, I was really picky. Like, _really_ picky. Nothing tasted right. Still not sure what it was that did it, but the next body over…” She made a silly chef’s kiss gesture, and Yaz giggled. “I _loved_ food!” 

“D’you still love food, then?” Yaz winced internally. That was a dumb thing to say, wasn’t it? 

The Doctor was fiddling with the TARDIS, pulling a lever here, pressing a button there. She stomped on the one pedal, and a custard cream biscuit was dispensed. The Doctor put it in her mouth, and she was smiling widely around it. “I have so far!” 

The TARDIS began to shake, and Yaz grabbed on to the console pre-emptively. It wasn’t _always_ a jolting, shaking landing, but… well, often enough that she didn’t want to make a total fool of herself. Especially when she was trying to impress the Doctor. Or was she trying to seduce the Doctor?

Was it even possible to seduce the Doctor? Did she even work that way?

The TARDIS came to a stop, and the Doctor squinted at the instrument panel. “Okay,” she said. “We’re here!”

“Where is here?” Yaz rocked on her heels as the Doctor stood up fully, stretching. Her back arched, and Yaz could make out the curve of her breasts under her t-shirts, the suspenders changing shape as well. 

Too distracting by half. 

“Here is wherever we are,” the Doctor said, which wasn’t exactly helpful.. “Let’s get a shift on, there’s apricots to be had!” 

Who was Yaz to ignore a battle cry like that?

* * *

Yaz and the Doctor ended up weaving through a crowded marketplace, where people of various shapes, sizes, and species all seemed to be arguing with each other at the tops of their lungs. The Doctor had grabbed Yaz’s hand once they’d left the alley the TARDIS was parked in, walking just a little too fast. Their palms were pressed tightly together, and the Doctor was towing Yaz along, weaving in and out the people and talking a million miles an hour like she always did when she was excited. 

“ - obviously, the climate here isn’t an exact replica, but it’s close enough that the earlier settlers, one of who was the child of an apricot grower, ended up taking a chance and crossbreeding them with some of the local plants, and the rest, as they say, is history. Assuming the they who’s talking isn’t me, since I don’t usually say that kinda thing. Although I might start!"

Yaz was just a little out of breath, and she was trying not to trip. She held on tightly to the Doctor’s hand, and she followed that long, lavender coat. 

When the Doctor stopped, Yaz almost ran into her. She managed to slow down enough that it wasn’t a… violent collision, per se, but their bodies did bump together. They were both standing in front of a small shop with letters in a foreign language painted on the window glass. Judging by the numerous baked goods piled up, it was a bakery. 

“Best apricot hamantaschen in the universe,” the Doctor said. “And in all of time.”

“What are hamantaschen?” The two of them were like rocks in the middle of a stream, the people moving past them shooting them glares. Yaz had never been more sympathetic to a boulder before. Although water probably couldn’t glare the way the little old woman wearing glasses on a chain was glaring. 

“They’re these triangle cookies with jam in the middle,” the Doctor said. “Traditionally with prune or poppy seed, but those are the rubbish ones. Everyone knows apricot are the best!” 

“Do they?” Yaz let herself be pulled into the bakery after the Doctor. 

“Definitely,” the Doctor said. “Hello, Aviva!”

The woman behind the counter had short grey hair held back in a hairnet, and her apron was stained with a whole rainbow of frosting. “Hello,” she said. “Have you been here before?”

“Yep, loads of times! Three dozen apricot hamantaschen, please!” The Doctor was still holding Yaz’s hand, and her thumb was absently passing over the back of Yaz’s hand repeatedly. It was a soothing motion, but it was still making Yaz break out in goosebumps. 

“I recognize that order, but it’s usually made by -”

“An older gent, thick accent, eyebrows trying to escape his face?” The Doctor gestured vaguely at her own face with one hand.

“Yep,” said Aviva, and she grinned. “Why, are you his daughter?” 

“Yep,” the Yaz said, before the Doctor could say anything. “Dear old Dad loves his… those.” 

Aviva looked at their linked hands, looked at the Doctor, looked at Yaz. “He never mentioned that he had daughters,” she said. 

“Daughter,” the Doctor said quickly. “Not daughters.” She let go of Yaz’s hand, wrapped an arm around Yaz’s waist, and gave Yaz a squeeze. “We’re not related.” 

Aviva grinned, and it was the kind of dirty grin that had a history behind it. Yaz could feel her face heating up. She was grinning as well, though. 

* * *

The Doctor brought the white cardboard bakery box to an oasis of quiet in the busy city - a little park, ringed in by a knee high stone wall. The ground seemed to be padded with some kind of plant that looked like pink cotton candy, and it released a scent somewhere between rosemary and peppermint. There were towering trees blocking out some of the bright sun, and the sky was the color of crushed blueberries. It was a setting that Yaz might have called romantic, if she were in that state of mind.

Which she might have been. Possibly. 

“These are gonna be _exactly_ what I’ve been craving,” the Doctor said, and her voice was full of the kind of giddy enthusiasm that Yaz associated with things about to blow up. “Isn’t it great when you finally get a chance to eat the thing you're craving?" 

"Definitely," Yaz agreed. The biscuits were shaped like triangles, and there was a dollop of shiny yellow jam in the center. "So why these, out of everything else?"

"Best balance of biscuit to jam," the Doctor said, "and these, specifically have zested cherry-orange peel in them. Adds a bit of a… bite, but it isn't as strong as actual orange or lemon zest." She leaned back against a tree, her legs stretched out in front of her. Yaz was sitting next to her, almost hip to hip. 

"Cherry-orange?" Yaz took a bite of the biscuit, and immediately got cookie crumbs down her low cut shirt. Of course. 

"They're not cherries or oranges, but close enough to kiss," the Doctor said, and her eyes were darting to Yaz's mouth, then Yaz’s eyes.

“That’s pretty close, yeah,” Yaz agreed, and she was moving her face forward. If there would ever be a time, it’d be now, when she could count the Doctor’s eyelashes, and her whole mouth tasted like pastry and sweet orange fruit. 

The Doctor jerked back, and her expression was faintly panicked. “Let’s see if they’re as good as I remember,” she said, and there was a slightly panicked edge to her voice. 

“Right,” Yaz said. She should have scooted away, because… well, how much more of an _I’m not interested in you like that_ message could the Doctor send? But it would send the wrong message if she scooted away as well, wouldn’t it? That she’d only accept romance as an acceptable sort of… something or other. 

Maybe she was overthinking this. 

The Doctor grabbed a biscuit. “Y’know, were said to be a bad man’s hat. And then they were his ear!”

“We’re eating a bad man’s ear?” That felt like a dumb thing to say, but everything felt like a dumb thing to say presently. How much worse could it be? 

“Or his hat. I’d almost rather a hat than an ear. Ears are all full of things you wouldn’t wanna eat, but you could make a hat out o’ something made of food.” The Doctor took a bite out of the hamantash… and her whole face wrinkled up. 

“D’you not like it?” Yaz watched the muscles in the Doctor’s jaw clench as she chewed. 

“No, it’s amazing,” the Doctor said. “It’s perfect. But it’s not what I _want_!” She wrinkled her nose again, frustrated, and she shot Yaz a sidelong look. “Then again,” she said, and her hand was hovering nervously over the Yaz’s, where it rested in the cotton candy grass, “I’m not always the best at, uh… realizing what it is that I want.” 

Yaz turned her hand over, spread her fingers open. The Doctor’s palm pressed into hers, and her double pulse pressed against Yaz’s wrist. “Well,” she said, as their fingers laced together, and she looked into the Doctor’s face, I’d be willing to help you. If you’d like. To a point.” 

“Right,” said the Doctor. “Wouldn’t wanna expect you to… hang around, when I haven’t figured out what it is that I want. What do _you_ want, for that matter?” 

“I want what everyone wants,” said Yaz, and her fingers squeezed the Doctor’s. 

“And what’s that?” The Doctor was looking into Yaz’s face now, and her expression was… hard to read.

“I have no idea,” said Yaz, and she grinned. “Human condition, ain’t it?”

“Not just human, either,” said the Doctor. “Ah well.” She sighed. “At least the hamentashen are good.” 

“And what else can you ask for, really?” Yaz squeezed the Doctor’s fingers again. Maybe she hadn’t blown it quite as badly as she had thought. 

2\. Garlic Bread

“Garlic bread!” 

"Gaah!" Yaz dropped her hair tie. It landed in the sink, and she grabbed it fast, before it could go down the drain. 

"Sorry, did I startle you?" The Doctor leaned against the doorframe of Yaz's bathroom, and she looked faintly sheepish, inasmuch as she ever looked sheepish. 

"It's fine," said Yaz, and she glanced over her shoulder at the Doctor. She was fully dressed right now, at least. She was pretty sure she had left her bedroom door open, and the Doctor must have wandered into the en suite bathroom from there. 

Since the time with the hamantashen, the two of them had gotten… bolder. Sort of. Maybe. It was hard to tell with the Doctor. 

Yaz still wasn't sure, exactly, but she was pretty sure she had caught the Doctor watching her more. They had been sitting closer together, sharing more significant eye contact. The Doctor might have even been flirting. 

Things were going to be weird, if they hadn't sorted this out before Graham and Ryan came back. 

"D'you need help?" The Doctor indicated the hairbrush on the sink. Her eyes met Yaz's in the mirror, and she was turning faintly pink. 

"Sure," said Yaz, although she had been doing her own hair since she was eight. 

The Doctor came up behind her, and picked up the hairbrush. "I've got that craving again," she said, as she carefully ran the brush through Yaz's hair. 

"Which one?" Yaz watched her own face as the Doctor brushed her hair, and tried not to think about how close they were to each other. The Doctor was close enough that Yaz could feel the warmth of her body, even through the layers of their clothes. 

"The one that wasn't for the hamantashen," the Doctor said. She had put the brush down, and was carefully separating Yaz's hair into three separate sections. 

“Oh,” said Yaz. She was still embarrassed and pleased by that memory in turn. The Doctor’s fingers in her hair were making her break out in more goosebumps, and all of the little hairs at the base of her neck were standing on end. Could the Doctor tell? Probably. 

“The best garlic can be found on the planet Allium -” the Doctor began.

“No way is there a planet called Allium,” Yaz interrupted.

The Doctor tugged gently on her hair, and Yaz bit back an embarrassing sound. “There’s a planet called Allium,” the Doctor insisted. “It was settled by a whole colony of garlic and onion growers.” 

“Why would garlic and onion growers need their own planet?” Yaz took some joy out of being the one to interrupt the Doctor. It was fun to turn the tables; she liked the way the Doctor made faces. 

She was turning into a proper brat, without Graham and Ryan to reign her in. She and the Doctor were clearly a bad influence on each other. 

“There was a whole bunch of colonists for all the different planets, once you lot got better at terraforming,” said the Doctor. Her fingers were very gentle as they braided Yaz’s hair. “Some climates were good for alliums, or oranges, or… well, apricots.” She met Yaz’s eyes over Yaz’s shoulder in the mirror, and she winked. 

Yaz wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“So we’re gonna go to Allium to get garlic bread?” Yaz leaned back, and the Doctor’s breasts were very soft against her back. 

"I went to Allium to get garlic, ages ago. Figured it would come in handy,” the Doctor corrected. She was holding on to the braid with one hand, and rummaging around in her pocket with the other. “Then we’re going to go to Brooklyn, New York in the nineteen seventies to get the garlic bread.” She was pinning the braid up now, around the back of Yaz’s head. 

“Oh,” said Yaz. “Seems a bit roundabout, really. Going to a planet in the future, then coming to Earth in the past.” 

The Doctor shrugged. She had a hairpin in her mouth, and was concentrating on whatever it was she was doing to Yaz’s hair. “Always use the best tools you’ve got available,” she told Yaz, mumbling a little around the pin. “Also, wear something you’re willing to get dirty.”

“Is getting garlic bread that likely to get you dirty?” Yaz really wished she’d stopped flushing. Most people couldn’t really tell when she was embarrassed, but the heat rushing to her face always made her head spin. 

“It can be,” the Doctor said cheerfully. She tucked the last bit of the braid back, and she patted the back of Yaz’s head gently. “Don’t you look lovely.” There was something sweet in her eyes in the mirror, something almost sad. 

“Thank you,” Yaz said, because she wasn’t sure what else to say. 

* * *

The Doctor landed the TARDIS, and then she disappeared off to some room, telling Yaz to “stay there in the console, I’ll be right there!” before dashing off.

“No place to really go,” she called after the Doctor.

“Nonsense,” said the Doctor, and her voice was muffled, it sounded like she was in a very big room, and then there were sounds of exertion, and the clanking of… pots? “There’s the whole of the TARDIS to wander ‘round in!”

“I wouldn’t wanna wander ‘round the TARDIS,” Yaz said. “What if I got lost and you never found me again?”

“I’d always find you,” the Doctor said, and that was a remarkably sappy thing to say. Yaz found herself smiling, looking down at her feet.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll keep that in mind, if I get the urge to go for a wander.” She leaned back against the console, then remembered the last time Ryan had done that and stood up fully, to keep from knocking into anything. 

“Aha!” The Doctor came out, and she was holding a sack in one hand and a bundle of flowers in the other. “I found it!” She waved the flowers excitedly. “And a bunch of ‘em sprouted.” She brandished the flowers on their long stems, and she looked faintly bashful, but proud of herself. “For you!”

“What are they?” Yaz looked down at the flowers - they were stems, with clumps of star shaped blossoms. There were a whole bunch of white ones, but a single stalk held purple blossoms. 

“Garlic flowers,” said the Doctor. “Didja know that was a thing? Garlic can make flowers. Or maybe I should say garlic _do_ flower, since they’re a plant. But… well, when you think of garlic, it’s all about the vampire protection. I met a bunch of vampires in Venice, did I ever tell you that? Only they were actually giant space fish.”

“Giant space fish,” Yaz echoed. She separated the purple flower from the rest, and held it out to the Doctor. 

The Doctor looked at the flower, frowning. “D’you not like purple?” 

“No, I like it fine, I just, uh… I think…” Yaz cleared her throat, and she set the white garlic flowers back on the console. Then she took a step closer, still holding on to the purple garlic flower, and she tucked it behind the Doctor’s ear, brushing the Doctor’s hair behind an ear as well. “I think it’d look nicer… like that.”

“Oh,” said the Doctor. She was blushing to her ears. She licked her lips. “Right. That… thank you.” 

Yaz let her hand move to the Doctor’s cheek, her thumb resting on the Doctor’s cheekbone. The Doctor’s skin was so soft. 

There was a thump, and they jerked apart. The Doctor had dropped the bag of garlic. 

“Right,” the Doctor said. Her fingers went up to the bright purple, and then moved back. She looked very pleased. “So! Garlic bread!”

“Garlic bread,” Yaz agreed. 

“Really can’t wait to answer this craving, I gotta say,” the Doctor said, picking the sack up. “It’s been driving me _mental_!”

* * *

“We’re gonna _bake_ the bread,” Yaz said.

“That’s part of the fun,” the Doctor said. She was already taking her coat off, draping it over the back of one of the little chairs in the bakery. “Pablo lets me use the kitchen, in return for the special garlic.” 

“Oh,” said Yaz. “And he won’t mind us using it when he’s not here?”

“Nah, Pablo’s an old friend. Helped him out with a problem ages ago.” The lights of the kitchen were very bright, and the tiny window over the sink reflected the light back. It was very dark outside, or at least, as dark as it ever got in New York City at night. 

“I see,” said Yaz. It was a bakery kitchen, like many others that she had seen. Not that she had seen that many, but it looked like Yaz had imagined any bakery kitchen would. Lots of big metal bowls and big plastic tubs. 

“Do you not like making bread?” The blowsy purple flower stood out against her temple like an exclamation point, and Yaz’s eyes kept darting to it, & it made her smile.l

“I’ve never made it before,” Yaz admitted. She shrugged out of her own jacket, and she draped it next to the Doctor’s. Her own garlic flowers were still on the console, tucked into a little niche that seemed to have been made for them. 

Yaz doubted the TARDIS had sprouted a special holder for flowers, but then again, it was the TARDIS. For all she knew, flowers were some special navigational tool. 

“It’s easy enough,” the Doctor said, and now she was rolling her sleeves up and picking up a big bowl. “First things first, you gotta make a hospitable environment for the yeast.”

* * *

Yeast, it turned out, liked heat. The Doctor ran hot water over the bowl, then sprinkled the yeast and sugar into the bowl, then added more warm water. 

“Pablo always told me that yeast blooms ‘cause it loves you,” the Doctor said earnestly. “You gotta love it enough that it loves you back.” 

Yaz stared into the bowl, as the cloudy liquid began to foam up. “Yeah? How does it love someone?”

“I mean, it makes you bread,” said the Doctor. “I’d say that’s love in and of itself.” She rocked back on her heels, and she was beginning to wave her hands around emphatically, the way she always did when she was especially excited. There was flour on her hands, up to her wrists, and there was a little smudge of it on her cheek. “Very human thing, bread. No other species does bread like you lot do. It’s amazing. All of these different factors come into making bread. You take plants and grind ‘em up, leave it alone, then you add this other independent living thing to make it edible. And if that isn’t enough, you figured it out to perfection, and then you added things like garlic or chocolate or rosemary, and you made a million different varieties…” The Doctor trailed off, when she caught Yaz’s expression. “What?”

“Nothin’,” said Yaz, and she looked down, then glanced back up at the Doctor. She was smiling in spite of herself. “Sorry. You’re just, uh... “

“You’ve got flour on your face,” said the Doctor, and she took a step closer to Yaz, until they were almost nose to nose.

“Do I?” Yaz brought her hand up to her own face, but the Doctor frowned, rubbing Yaz’s cheek. 

“I’m rubbing it in,” she said. Her voice had gotten quieter.

“I can live with it,” Yaz said, breathless. The Doctor’s hand was very warm, and she could have drowned in the Doctor’s eyes. The Doctor’s eyes that were moving closer to her’s.

The Doctor kissed Yaz, and it was an awkward kiss - their teeth bumped, their noses were in the wrong place. The Doctor pulled back, her expression worried. “Did I read that wrong? Was that a -”

Yaz pressed forward, holding the Doctor’s face in her hands. She pulled back after a few seconds, pressing her forehead against the Doctor’s, and her chest was heaving. She was shaking, and she would have been embarrassed about just how _intense_ it all felt, if she had anything left in her to care about anything, except that the Doctor was kissing her again.

The Doctor’s tongue was gentle against the seam of Yaz’s lips, and then the Doctor’s tongue was in her mouth, and Yaz’s tongue was touching the Doctor’s. They pulled apart again, and Yaz was panting again. “So I didn’t misread it, then,” the Doctor said, breathless.

“No,” said Yaz. “No, you didn’t.” 

* * * 

When the garlic bread was finally cool enough to eat, the Doctor ripped a piece off the loaf, then ripped that in half as well. She took a bite, and Yaz took a bite - it was perfect. The crust was crunchy, and the garlic seemed to explode on her tongue, like a kick to the face. Yaz coughed, then took another bite. 

“This is delicious,” she told the Doctor, and the Doctor’s face was wrinkling up all over again. 

“It’s good,” the Doctor agreed, “but it’s not… right. Exactly.” 

“Did it need more space garlic? More parm?” Yaz took another piece, and she took another bite. She was going to be sweating garlic in a few hours, but… well, at least the Doctor was eating the garlic bread as well, right? The both of them could reek of the stuff.

“It’s not what I’m craving,” the Doctor said, and she wrapped her arm around Yaz’s waist, pulling her closer. The two of them were hip to hip now, and the Doctor had her thumb tucked into Yaz’s waistband. It was making Yaz’s skin tingle, where they were touching.

“Well,” Yaz said, “I guess we’ll just have to keep looking.”

“Sounds like an adventure, when you put it like that,” the Doctor said. Her hand crept into Yaz’s, and she laced their fingers together. 

Yaz leaned over, and gave the Doctor a nervous, garlicky kiss. She smiled when the Doctor kissed her back, in the stifling basement kitchen. “Sounds like fun” she agreed, murmuring against the Doctor’s lips, and she felt the Doctor smile against her, and then kiss her again. 

3\. Steak

“I’ve got that craving thing again,” the Doctor grumbled, and she leaned back in the kitchen chair, lifting the first front two legs off of the green and purple checkered linoleum.

"What are you craving?" Ryan was eating his cereal very carefully, clearly trying not to splash any milk. 

"Oh, this again," Yaz said, but her tone was fond. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and she caught the Doctor's eyes tracking the movement. She tried not to preen too much, but she was smiling down into her cup of coffee. 

"What again?" Graham dipped one of his toast soldiers into the yolk of his egg. 

"The Doctor's been dragging me all over trying to figure out whatever it is that she's been craving," said Yaz. 

The Doctor nudged Yaz's foot with her own, and Yaz pressed her ankle into the Doctor's. They were sitting next to each other, and the Doctor had a croissant on a plate in front of her. "While you lot were recovering from the flu," she said. "You should've let me help with that."

"Doctor, the last time you tried to fix something, I turned purple for three days," Graham grumbled.

"I said I was sorry," the Doctor protested.

Graham made a non-committal noise, and took another bite of his toast. 

"Y'know what _I'd_ like?" Ryan rested his elbow on the table and his chin on his palm, looking into the middle distance. "Steak. I haven't had a good steak in an age."

"A good steak?" The Doctor's expression went thoughtful. "What kinda steak?"

"A steak-steak," said Ryan. 

"That's not helpful," said Yaz. "There's tons of steaks in the world. And that's just on our world, let alone all the other worlds out there." 

"What other steaks are there on our world?" Ryan put his spoon down a little more vigorously than he needed to, and there was a little spray of milk on the front of his shirt.

Graham handed him a towel. "Well, there's beefsteak," said Graham. "Good ol' favorite."

"I've seen tuna steaks, swordfish," Yaz added.

"It's not a proper steak if it's a fish!" Ryan protested. "It's got to be on land, to be a steak." 

"Where would walrus fit into all of that?" The Doctor cut in. One of her hands was under the table now, resting on Yaz's knee, and when had that happened? It was very warm, and it seemed to be getting warmer. The heat was spreading up, through Yaz's leg, beating into her lower belly. 

"What?" Ryan frowned, and the expression looked enough like the Doctor's own confused face that it made Yaz grin in spite of herself. How much of the Doctor was rubbing off on all of them? 

The Doctor was absently rubbing little circles with her thumb over Yaz's thigh, as she ate her croissant with her other hand. 

_If I moved my chair up any further, she'd be able to grab my inner thigh, and if she does that I might die. And if she doesn't do that, I might die, too_ , thought Yaz. "People make walrus steak?" Was what she said instead.

"Definitely," said the Doctor. "And dolphin, and manatee." The Doctor's hand moved a little further up Yaz's leg, and gave it another squeeze. 

"Eating manatee is a crying shame," said Graham. "Grace always said she wanted to go to Florida, swim with manatees." 

"We can do that, if you'd like," said the Doctor, perking up. She took another bite of her croissant, and flaky pastry scattered across the front of her shirt.

"Another time," said Graham. "So you want steak?"

"I very much want steak," said the Doctor. "How would you lot like to go out for a night on the town. Get some steak?" 

"Can we try to make sure it's from an Earth animal, please?" Ryan said, his tone plaintive. "I'm all for trying new food, don't get me wrong, but now I've got the proper craving, too."

"Craving buddies," the Doctor said, and she gave Ryan one of her wide, ridiculous grins. "Let's do it! I know the best steakhouse, it's in Brazil!" She was gently drumming her fingers on Yaz's thigh, as if she was thinking, and Yaz was trying very hard not to squirm. 

"Brazil sounds nice," said Graham. "I'm all for it." 

The Doctor could suggest they all go up to the bottom of the ocean to disco with the Daleks, and Yaz would have gone along with it. "Brazil," Yaz agreed. "Sounds good." 

"Let's make a night of it," said the Doctor, and she let go of Yaz's leg to clap her hands together. "Dress up nice, go get a nice dinner, the whole shebang." She paused. "Not sure if I like that word, shebang.” 

“Better ‘n Kerblam,” said Graham.

“Too right,” said Ryan.

The Doctor pressed her foot against Yaz’s foot. “Wardrobe room is as free as ever,” she said. “Or I can nip you back home, if you want to get your own fancy duds.”

Yaz considered trying to explain to her mother why she was getting out her nice dress, and the way her sister would make abrasive comments. “I’m good with the wardrobe room,” she told the Doctor. 

The Doctor beamed. “Brilliant!”

* * *

Yaz found the Doctor outside of her room some time later, looking faintly flustered. “I was, erm, wondering,” the Doctor said, and she rubbed her hands together, rocked on her heels. “D’you need help with your hair, or anything like that?”

It was a transparent request for alone time - with Graham and Ryan back in the TARDIS, there were fewer opportunities to snog each other in the hallways or by the console. There was still the occasional quiet moment or stolen kiss, but everything always seemed to be happening at once, as it always was when it was the four of them. 

“Sure,” Yaz said, and she smiled at the Doctor. “Thank you for the offer.” She stepped aside, to let the Doctor into the room, and she closed the door behind her when the Doctor had stepped in. 

Yaz was pretty fond of her room in the TARDIS. When she’d first chosen it, the Doctor had shown her how to program the “windows” into day/night cycles, or whatever other sort of background she liked. Generally, Yaz let the TARDIS sort itself (herself? Yaz wasn’t so sure these days) out. 

“So,” the Doctor said, and she was standing in the center of the room. She wasn’t babbling the way she normally did when she was nervous. She had her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat, and she was kept looking around the room.

“So,” Yaz echoed, and she stepped closer, until the two of them were almost touching. “You think this steak is gonna be that thing you’re craving?”

“Definitely,” the Doctor said, and then she was leaning forward, kissing Yaz. Her tongue was in Yaz’s mouth, her hands coming up to cradle Yaz’s face, and it was just one perfect moment, that simple bit of connection strung between them like fairy lights. 

Yaz sighed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders, and she kissed the Doctor back. Her hands rested on the Doctor’s waist, slid under the Doctor’s braces. She pulled the Doctor closer to her, and her hands moved up the Doctor’s back, clutching at the Doctor’s shirt.

The Doctor deepened the kiss, nibbling on Yaz’s lower lip, sucking on Yaz’s tongue. She moaned when Yaz licked into her mouth, and her fingers were tangling in Yaz’s hair. Her other hand slid up Yaz’s side, and was almost - _almost_ \- cupping Yaz’s breast. It was enough of a tease that Yaz groaned, pressed her chest into the Doctor’s hand. 

Yaz shuddered as the Doctor’s hand closed over her breast, and then she was moving back, pulling the Doctor with her. The bed hit the back of her knees, and she broke the kiss, her chest heaving.

“I can feel your heart beating,” the Doctor said. Her voice was quiet, and her lips were swollen. She pressed her hand flat against Yaz’s breast, and her palm was giving Yaz _just_ enough nipple stimulation through the layers of shirt and bra to be a tease. 

“Must be goin’ a mile a minute,” Yaz said, and her own voice sounded silly to her. “It’s what you do to me, y’know.”

The Doctor’s eyes were dark and her face turned sad. “Humans,” she murmured, and she let go of Yaz’s breast to cup the other woman’s face. “You lot are so delicate.”

Yaz sighed, nuzzled into the Doctor’s hand. “I’m stronger than I look,” she said, and she pressed a kiss to the inside of the Doctor’s wrist. There were two pulses, and that was a bit of a shock. She knew about the two hearts, but… still. She kissed further up, until she hit the cuff of the Doctor’s coat. 

“I fully believe that, Yasmin Kahn,” The Doctor said. “You’re one of the most amazing humans I know.” Another sigh, and she kissed Yaz again, kissed with her whole mouth, with a fervency that seemed to be melting Yaz from the inside out. When they pulled apart, the Doctor looked almost dopey, and she was shaking. “I’ve never done this sort of thing before,” she admitted.

“What, never?” Yaz tugged at the bottom of the Doctor’s two shirts, untucking them. Her fingers traced the Doctor’s bare stomach, and the Doctor shivered.

“Well, not never-never,” the Doctor said. “Not in this body, though. In this kind of body. I’ve done plenty of things as a man. Loads of things. Exciting things.” She seemed to be babbling, and the muscles of her stomach fluttered under Yaz’s hand. 

“Have you, now?” Yaz fluttered her eyelashes in what she hoped was a flirty manner. This close, she could count the freckles on the Doctor’s nose. The Doctor was trembling, and her breath was hot across and humid across Yaz’s face. 

“Quite a lot,” the Doctor agreed. Her eyes were wide, as the very tip of the Doctor’s fingers traced along the band of her sports bra. ”A… a whole lot. Loads and loads and... loads.” She trailed off, and she cleared her throat.

Yaz kept moving her hand up slowly, her eyes on the Doctor’s. “Have you ever… I mean, anything with a woman?” She cupped the Doctor’s breast, her fingers weighing the soft heft, the nipple hard against her palm even through the thin fabric of the bra. The Doctor’s two hearts were beating very fast.

“With a woman, yeah,” said the Doctor. She was clutching at Yaz’s shirt now, bunching the fabric up in her fists. “Not as a woman. Can’t be that different, all things considered. All bodies are different, especially when it’s your body. Or my body. Especially my body. There aren’t any other bodies like mine.” Her face had gone… Yaz wasn’t sure how to describe it. The Doctor’s hearts were beating faster, and her expression was one that Yaz had never seen before. 

“There’s other women of your species,” Yaz said, and she squeezed the Doctor’s breast. “I’m sure you could ask a few of ‘em for tips, if you’re worried about anything especially… new.” 

The Doctor’s whole face fell, and Yaz knew almost immediately that she’d said exactly the wrong thing. “I’m gonna go get ready,” the Doctor said, and she covered Yaz’s hand with her own. She squeezed Yaz’s hand, and guided it out from under her shirt. She kissed the back of Yaz’s hand, and then she was tucking her shirt back in and making her way back towards the door. “Come down to the console room when you’re ready!” The cheer in her voice was forced. Exceedingly forced. 

The door closed behind her, and Yaz made a face. “Good job on that one, mate,” she said into her empty room, and she sighed. 

* * *

By the time Yaz came down to the console room, Graham and Ryan were there as well, dressed to the nines. Graham had on a nice sport coat, and Ryan was wearing a very nice button down shirt. 

“Look at you, Yaz,” Ryan said, and he smiled at her widely. “You look proper fit!”

Yaz blushed, ran her hands across her arms self consciously. Her hair was loose down her back, the dress was a deep, royal blue, the same blue as the TARDIS. She’d seen it in the wardrobe room, and it had fit perfectly. The lace of it was rough against the palms of her hands, as she ran them over her legs, and she hoped she wasn’t blushing too hard.

“I’m very much looking forward to that steak,” said Graham. “I haven’t had a good steak in a donkey’s age.”

“How long is a donkey’s age, compared to a regular age?” Yaz crossed her arms over her chest, tried not to shift, tried not to bolt as soon as she heard the sound of the Doctor’s boots on the TARDIS floor. 

Yaz’s eyes went wide. The Doctor was wearing a suit. A suit that was more tightly fitted than she usually wore, and her trousers and jacket were a deep green, as was her vest. Her shirt was violet, and she had pinned the purple garlic flower to her lapel. It was an… odd get up, to be sure, but when the Doctor met Yaz’s eyes, she gave a tentative smile. “So,” the Doctor said, and she clapped her hands together. “Night on the town. Who’s ready?”

Yaz swallowed, her mouth dry, as the Doctor came to stand closer. “You look nice,” she said meekly.

“Thank you,” said the Doctor, and she adjusted her coat, looking faintly bashful. “Still getting used to what feels right in this body.”

Yaz stepped closer to the Doctor, her hand hovering over the flower. She met the Doctor’s eyes, and then she adjusted it, so that is hung straight. 

… Inasmuch as it could. It was still a great big blob of a flower, like a purple pom-pom, although it still looked fresh, after all these weeks. She met the Doctor’s eyes, and the Doctor smiled at her. 

Yaz gave her a tentative smile back. 

* * *

The steakhouse was racaus and friendly. Yaz sat next to the Doctor, and their knees pressed against each other. Yaz got a steak like something out of a movie, seasoned with garlic butter and peppercorns and sea salt. The meat was juicy and chewy, the vegetables crisp and fresh. 

The Doctor ate her steak, her expression first hopeful, then annoyed.

“Is it not good?” Ryan had a napkin across the front of his shirt, and a truly huge piece of steak in front of him. 

“It’s delicious,” the Doctor said, cutting off another piece. It was a lot more well done than Yaz would have enjoyed, but the Doctor had requested it that way. “But it’s not what I’m craving.”

“You wanna try some of mine?” Yaz cut off a piece of her own, held it out on her fork to the Doctor.

The Doctor leaned forward, took it into her mouth. She chewed carefully, her eyes fluttering closed, and then she kept frowning. “No, this isn’t it either,” she said. “But thanks,” she added, and she smiled at Yaz. 

Yaz gave an awkward smile back, looked down at her steak, then back up at the Doctor. She caught the Doctor looking at her with a hard to read expression, but the Doctor’s knee was pressed against her own. 

* * *

“Yaz,” said the Doctor, “can I show you something?” The Doctor was leaning against the TARDIS console, looking so casual it obviously wasn’t. She had her hands shoved in her pockets, and it was ruining the line of her suit. She looked like a character on the cover of a certain type of movie, all angles and shadows. 

“Sure,” said Yaz. She leaned against the TARDIS with the Doctor. “You alright, Ryan, Graham?” 

Graham patted his belly, and he yawned. “I’m gonna need to sleep that one off. Haven’t had a meal that good since you took us to that Roman banquet!” 

“At least there wasn’t any flamingo this time,” said Ryan, and he yawned and stretched. “Night, you lot.” 

“Sleep well, Ryan,” the Doctor said. “There should be stomach tablets in your bathroom,” she called after Graham.

“Ta,” he called back.

“So,” the Doctor said, when the two of them were alone in the console room, “fancy seeing a new room?” Her hand was very close to Yaz’s on the console. It all felt very primary school, and Yaz wasn’t sure what to do with herself. 

“There’s always new rooms,” Yaz said lightly. “I don’t think even you know all of ‘em.” 

“True enough,” said the Doctor, and her fingers slid over Yaz’s, laced together. “So. You wanna?”

“I’d absolutely love to, Doctor,” Yaz said.

* * *

The Doctor took her to a dance floor. 

That’s all it was - it was like the kind of place a school disco would be held, or a wedding hall. The floor was made of wood, and there was even a disco ball up on the ceiling. 

“Y’wanna dance?” The Doctor squeezed Yaz’s fingers, then let go of them, to slip her jacket off and drape it across the back of one of chairs lining the edge of the dance floor. 

“Dance?” Yaz looked at her blankly. 

“Sure,” said the Doctor, and she pointed the sonic towards a wall. Soft music started playing, and the lights went dim.

It felt like something out of a film. 

“Sure,” Yaz said. “Sure, Doctor, I’d love to dance.” She let the Doctor take her hand, and then she draped her arms over the Doctor’s shoulders, the Doctor’s hands on her hips. She swayed to the music, and she felt some of the tension leave her body. At least the Doctor wasn’t mad at her, right? 

“I don’t… have anyone else to talk to,” the Doctor said quietly. 

“Hm?” Yaz looked into the Doctor’s face, so close to her own. 

“I don’t have anyone else to talk to about this,” the Doctor said. “For… complicated reasons. Reasons that I’m not ready to go into.” 

“Right,” said Yaz. She wasn’t sure she understood.

“I’ve done horrible things, Yaz,” the Doctor said. Her voice cracked. “Things that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I… I need you to know that. That it’ll always be dangerous, to be with me. In any way, but especially…” She made an expansive gesture with her shoulders. 

“I knew it’d be dangerous to come with you in the first place,” Yaz said, and she tried to keep her voice gentle. “I made my choice.”

“... I’m scared,” the Doctor said, and she was avoiding Yaz’s eyes. 

“What are you scared of?” Yaz couldn’t imagine the Doctor being afraid of much of _anything_. She pressed her forehead against the Doctor’s, and her nose fit almost perfectly up against the Doctor’s. 

“I’ve never done this before. Like this. In this body. As this self. I’m still sorting myself out, and it doesn’t seem fair to be doing anything… y’know, that kind of…” She trailed off. “Doing it with someone who doesn’t know Time Lord physiology, although there isn’t… really anyone who would know it.” Another pained look. “It’s all very new,” she finished. 

Yaz shrugged. “You’re not the only one who’s ever had a big upheaval,” Yaz said. “I know… it’s a little different for you. On a bunch of different levels. But I’m willing to be here with you for that. To help you with it. If you’ll have me.” 

“Oh, Yasmin Kahn,” the Doctor said, and her voice echoed through Yaz’s chest, where they were pressed up against each other. “You are a wonder.” 

"I do my best," Yaz demurred, and then she kissed the Doctor on the mouth, because if ever there was a moment for a kiss, it was right then and there. She liked the way the Doctor melted into the kiss, liked the way that the Doctor's hands moved up her back, palms rasping across the lace.

When they pulled apart, the Doctor licked her lips. "I want to touch you so badly, Yaz," she said, and there was a note of something like desperation in her voice. "I've wanted to... for so long." She was clutching at Yaz, and 

"You can touch me all you want, Doctor," Yaz said, and she pressed close to the Doctor again, kissing her with the kind of passion she normally found faintly embarrassing. She moaned into the Doctor's mouth, as the Doctor's hands descended down awkwardly, to cup her ass, then gave it an awkward squeeze. 

"You've got such a nice arse," the Doctor said. "I keep seeing it, I keep... thinking about it. A lot. I think about a lot of you a lot of the time." She giggled. "Wow. I must sound ridiculous."

"Since when do you think about sounding ridiculous?" Yaz teased. She pressed closer, and her hands slid under the Doctor's vest, along the smooth fabric of the Doctor's shirt. The skin under it was warm, and the Doctor's ribs were heaving as she took deeper breaths. 

"I'm new at this," the Doctor said plaintively. "I had other... techniques, but I don't really know how to... y'know, do the rest of it."

"Techniques," Yaz said dryly, and she was grinning a bit in spite of herself. "Are you saying that so much of your old ways of romancing were reliant on being a bloke?" 

"I didn't realize it was... quite like that, but yeah," the Doctor admitted. She looked sheepish. 

"You're still _you_ , aren't ya?" Yaz slid her hands up the Doctor's back, pressed closer, and they were kissing again, all tongues and lips and teeth. It was... pretty close to perfect, all things considered. The Doctor seemed to still be getting used to kissing, but she was a quick study, her tongue delicate against Yaz's, her lips soft and warm. 

When they pulled apart, the Doctor was panting, red in the face. "I can't answer your questions if you're kissing me," she mumbled, and then she was pushing Yaz's hair over one shoulder to kiss along Yaz's neck, under Yaz's jaw. Her tongue flickered out, tasting Yaz's pulse point, and Yaz sighed. 

"You're the genius, you think of something," Yaz said, and then she made a face. As nice as all of this was, the heavy meal was still sitting in her stomach like a lump of concrete. "Doctor?"

"Mmm?" The Doctor nuzzled her nose into the hollow of Yaz's throat, and she sighed, her hands moving up and down Yaz's sides. It was just light enough to be maddening.

"As lovely as this is... I don't think I'm up for much more than a good sleep right now." Yaz leaned back, so that she could look the Doctor in the face. "I'm sorry. All that steak."

The Doctor made a face. "Not only was that steak not what I was craving, it's keeping you from..." She trailed off, and she was blushing. "Y'know." She made a face. "I wasn't this shy in the old body," she said. "At least, I think I wasn't. This didn't... come up much."

"Were you not into women when you were in your old body?" Yaz asked, and she took a regretful step back. She was already missing the Doctor's warmth against her. 

"I was, but I was also... different." The Doctor sighed, ran her fingers through her hair. "Things were simpler."

"Things are always simpler when we're younger," Yaz said, her tone firm. 

"Can't really argue with that," the Doctor said, and she linked arms with Yaz. "Can I come to bed with you?" Then she paused, cleared her throat. "Erm. I mean, um."

Yaz snorted, patted the Doctor on the cheek. "You get flustered easily, don't you?" 

"Seem to, yep," the Doctor said, and her tone was faintly resigned. "I mean, I like... I like the idea of coming to bed with you regardless. Of whether it's going to bed or... y'know... _going to bed_." She cleared her throat. 

Yaz smiled, and she kissed the Doctor on the cheek. "You charmer," she said, keeping her tone teasing. "I'd love for you to come to bed with me. Any way you'd like." 

“I know a lot of ways to come to bed,” the Doctor said, and her tone was so earnest that Yaz wasn’t sure if the Doctor was making an innuendo or not. She squeezed the Doctor’s waist instead, and let the Doctor lead the way towards her bedroom.

* * *

Yaz lay in bed, and the Doctor lay next to her. It was very quiet, apart from the low rumble of the TARDIS, and the noises that any two living bodies make. 

Yaz was in her pajamas, and her mouth still tasted like toothpaste. The Doctor was wearing a pair of boxer shorts printed with little question marks and one of Yaz’s old t-shirts, and she of course looked adorable and at home in it all. 

“Thanks,” the Doctor said quietly, when the lights were out and the two of them were lying in the darkness together, close enough that they were almost touching.

Yaz was almost certain that her bed hadn’t been big enough for two people to lie in it without touching, but she’d never… tested it. Was the TARDIS up to something? That was, admittedly, always a possibility. 

“For what?” Yaz rolled onto her side, so that she could look the Doctor in the face. Her hair fell down over her face, and she made an annoyed noise, trying to blow it all out of her face. It didn’t work, but then again, it never did.

“Being so… patient with me, I suppose,” the Doctor said, and then she was rolling onto her side. The room was very dim, but not fully dark - the “windows” were showing a street scene from a place that Yaz never seen before. It was night, and it felt a bit like the two of them were the only living things in the whole world. 

“Think nothin’ of it,” Yaz said, because… well, how else was she supposed to respond. “It’s the only thing a decent person’d do.” She kissed the Doctor’s palm again, held it to her face.

‘You’re more than decent,” said the Doctor, and she pressed a kiss to Yaz’s mouth. 

Yaz was still smiling as she closed her eyes. 

* * *

Yaz woke up overheated, with the sensation of breath on her neck. She sighed, and there was another huff of air stirring up the little hairs at the base of her neck. 

“Did I wake you up?” The Doctor’s voice was low. 

“‘S’okay,’ Yaz mumbled, and her own voice was low and rumbling. Nothing felt entirely real - it was all a dream bubble of sweaty skin and the gentle pulse of the TARDIS. The Doctor's arm was reaching up now, and the Doctor's hand was resting on Yaz's belly. 

Yaz scooted back against the Doctor, until she could feel the other woman's breasts against her shoulder blades. She sighed, as the Doctor squeezed her, and she let herself relax further into the bed. 

"You smell like sleep," the Doctor murmured, and her nose was buried in Yaz's hair. "Were you dreaming?"

"I don't remember," Yaz said. Her shirt was riding up over her stomach, and the Doctor's fingers were playing with the hem of it. 

"It's nice sleeping next to someone else," the Doctor said. "Sleeping next to you," she added. "You're so warm, and I can hear your heart beating."

Yaz rolled onto her other side, so that she was facing the Doctor. She could just barely make out blond hair and the whites of the Doctor's eyes in the dimness. "Does it bother you, that I've only got the one?" 

“Nah,” said the Doctor. “I’ve known enough humans that it isn’t all creepy anymore.” 

“Y’found it creepy, at first?” The shirt that the Doctor had borrowed was low cut, and the swell of one breast was just peeking over the edge. Yaz could just make it out - more softness in the darkness.

“At first I found humans almost grotesque,” said the Doctor. Her hands were moving along Yaz’s sides, pushing Yaz’s shirt up around her ribs. “One heart, no telepathy… it’d be like going to a world where everyone only had three fingers on their hands for you, I think.”

“You sound so disgusted,” Yaz said. “By us.” The Doctor’s stroking was an odd mix of arousing and ticklish, and it added to the entire hazy atmosphere.

“I was, at first,” said the Doctor. “I’ve gotten much more open minded.” She pressed forward, and she scooted closer and kissed Yaz. 

Everything seemed to melt together. It was like kissing in a dream, all warmth and wetness and darkness. The Doctor’s breath was hot and humid against Yaz’s face, and the Doctor’s hair was ticklish against Yaz’s face. At some point, Yaz ended up on top of the Doctor, and Yaz was kissing along the Doctor’s throat. The double pulse under Yaz’s lips was racing, and the Doctor’s hands were clutching at Yaz’s shirt.

The blankets had been kicked off of the bed, and the air was cool against Yaz’s bare back. The Doctor was so _warm_ , and then the Doctor was pulling her shirt off, and Yaz was sitting up to toss it away. She was topless now, and the Doctor was looking up at her, her face as pale in the dimness as the moon in the sky. She was staring, enraptured, at Yaz’s chest, and then she was pulling Yaz closer, and she was pressing hot, wet kisses along the curve of Yaz’s breast, and then she had her face in Yaz’s cleavage.

_I never saw the Doctor as the motorboating type_ , Yaz thought, and she was holding on to the headboard, as the Doctor wriggled a little bit more upright, and kissed along the other breast. Yaz gasped, and her knees dug into the Doctor’s side as the Doctor began to suck on Yaz’s nipple. The Doctor sucked, deep, pulsing sucks, and her tongue swirled along the tip. She was moaning, and the vibrations were moving through Yaz’s breast, and Yaz’s hips were rolling, grinding against the Doctor’s stomach. Yaz tangled her fingers in the Doctor’s hair, and the Doctor moaned again. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor mumbled, and she pressed Yaz’s breasts together, licking along all the spots where they touched. “Yaz, you’re…” The Doctor ended up latching on to the other nipple, sucking on it noisily. 

Yaz moaned, and her head tilted back, her own hair tickling her bare back. “Doctor,” she said, and her voice cracked. “Oh, _Doctor_...” 

“Mmm,” the Doctor agreed, and she pulled off of Yaz’s nipple with a pop. “Breasts. I forgot how much I love breasts.” She took Yaz’s breasts in her hands and jiggled them, her thumbs pressing into the nipples.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Yaz said, and she was giggling. “Well, no, I can, just… oh, Doctor.” 

“What?” The Doctor was pressing her face back into Yaz’s breasts, nuzzling her face in. “Breasts are nice. I like breasts.” Then she paused. “I’ve got my own now, don’t I? Wonder what that’s like.” She was kneading at Yaz’s breasts now, and she squeezed them tightly, twiddling her thumbs like she was adjusting something on the TARDIS. 

“You do,” Yaz said, and she slid her own hands down, to cup the Doctor’s breasts. “They’re very nice.”

“I haven’t given ‘em much thought, honestly,” the Doctor said, and she shivered. “Ooh, that’s… that’s interesting.” She sighed, and she pushed her breasts into Yaz’s hands. “You’re… you’re good at that.”

“I think you may just be very sensitive,” Yaz said. The Doctor’s breasts were small and perky, with hard little nipples. The Doctor gasped when Yaz pinched them, and her back arched. “I’m alright.” 

“You’re _amazing_ , Yaz. Y’know, you’ve got the most points?” The Doctor was beginning to babble. “Out of all the fam. Team. Team TARDIS. Leading amount of… of… oh, _Yaz_!” The Doctor trailed off, shifting around enough to toss her shirt up and off. Her breasts were warm and soft in Yaz's hands, and Yaz gave them another squeeze.

Yaz wriggled down the Doctor’s body, kissing along the Doctor’s chest. The Doctor’s breasts were as wonderful as she’d imagined them to be, and Yaz moaned into them, holding them in her hands, then lapping at the nipple on the left one. She swirled the tip of her tongue along the tip of it, and she twisted the other nipple. She was drunk on the scent of the Doctor’s skin, the taste of it.

“Oh, that’s… that’s nice. That’s something.” She arched her back, pressing more of her breast into Yaz’s mouth. “That’s different.”

Yaz let go of the Doctor’s breast, and she nuzzled into it. “Good kind of different?” 

“I think so,” the Doctor said, and she sighed, flopping back onto the bed. “Your mouth makes the bras worth it, I’ll tell ya what.” 

“I’ll put that on my business cards, I will,” Yaz said. “Makes bras worth it.” She twisted the Doctor’s nipples like radio dials, and the Doctor made a desperate, broken noise. 

“You have business cards?” The Doctor’s voice cracked. “I want one! I can put it in my wallet! I’ll have to get a wallet for that, but totally - Oh! Do that again, please!"

Yaz twisted the Doctor's nipples again, scooted up further along the Doctor's body to bite and suck at her neck. She was probably going to give the Doctor one _hell_ of a hickey. "Do you even have a wallet?" Yaz inquired, and then she was tracing her tongue along the edge of the Doctor's ear. 

The Doctor didn't respond, but she went stock still. She was trembling, and Yaz could feel her hearts beating desperately where their breasts were pressed together. When Yaz took the Doctor's earlobe into her mouth and _sucked_ , the Doctor's fingers dug into Yaz's shoulders, hard enough that Yaz was faintly worried about bruises. 

_Are her ears more sensitive than her nipples?_ That was a new one. Then again, Time Lord physiology might be different. 

"Do that again, please," the Doctor said, her voice meek. Her fingers had softened their intense grip, at least. 

"What, this?" Yaz drew the Doctor's earlobe into her mouth again and sucked on it, tweaking the Doctor's nipple, her wrist at an awkward angle. 

"Ah! Yes, yes, yes, that, that, that, oh _Yaz_!" The Doctor sounded like she was about to start crying. 

The awkward angle was _so_ worth it. 

"Mm, Yaz, I need…" The Doctor's voice cracked. "Please!"

"What d'you need, Doctor?" Yaz kept her voice low, tried to aim for sexy. She mostly sounded like she had a sore throat, but at least the Doctor didn't comment. 

"Whatever you think I need," the Doctor said, and her tone had taken on an almost desperate level. "I trust you, Yaz."

"Oh, Doctor," Yaz said, and she sighed, sat up. "What _am_ I going to do with you?" She moved lower, until she was sitting between the Doctor's legs. She wished she had the light on - she could feel the tacky stickiness of the Doctor's arousal through the thin boxers, but there was something about seeing that patch of wetness on a woman's clothes that always made her mouth water. _Next time_ , she thought, and that sent a jolt of heat straight through her. 

Yaz was _aching_ for it. Her sleep shorts were slimy, soaked through, and her whole body seemed overheated, every nerve ending sparking. Her breasts were still damp from the Doctor's saliva, and her hair was sticking to her face with sweat. 

"I want…" Yaz began, then tried again. Maybe it would be better to frame it a little differently. "Would you like me to use my mouth on you?" Wait, no, too vague. "To eat your pussy?" Too pornographic. "To give you head?" Too juvenile. She resisted the urge to cover her face and groan - at least the Doctor probably couldn't see her expression in the dimness. 

"Cunnilingus!" the Doctor said, and she seemed to have come back to herself. "Always been curious about that one from the other side. Sure, let's have a go!" 

Yaz was grinning, as her thumbs slid under the Doctor's boxers. "Y'know, you're not half adorable," she told the Doctor, and she tossed the boxers to the side. 

"Am I?" The Doctor was still propped up on her elbows. "Dunno if that's an adjective that suits the current situation,” she said, and she spread her thighs wider to give Yaz more room. 

“I think we’re getting sidetracked,” said Yaz, as she squirmed, moving to lie on her belly, her hands on the Doctor’s inner thighs. She scooted closer, until she could feel the heat radiating off of the Doctor’s cunt against her nose. She could smell musk and desperation, filling her whole head, and she licked her lips. 

“I’ve always wondered,” the Doctor said. “What it feels like, I mean.” One of her hands was resting on top of Yaz’s head, and her fingers pressed into the sweaty skin of Yaz’s scalp, scratching gently along it. 

_I’m the first one to touch her like this_ , thought Yaz, and that was a dizzying thought. The Doctor had shown Yaz so many wonderful, terrifying things, and here Yaz was, about to return the favor. Yaz licked the Doctor, right along her slit, and the Doctor shuddered, her thighs tensing up on either side of Yaz's head. 

"Oh," the Doctor said, and she shivered. "Oh, that… do that again. Please."

 _So polite_ , thought Yaz, and she was grinning as she pressed her face a little deeper, letting her tongue slide between the Doctor's labia. She brought her hands to the Doctor's hips and pulled her closer, angling her neck so she could tap at the Doctor's clit with the tip of her tongue. 

The Doctor's hips shot forward, and she yanked at Yaz's hair and made an inarticulate noise. "Oh, that… that's new, that is _definitely_ new, that…" 

Yaz snorted, and the Doctor gasped. She gasped again, when Yaz began to lick, two fingers holding her open, and then Yaz was adjusting her so she could fit her tongue inside of the Doctor, her nose clumsily bumping against the Doctor’s clit. She sucked what she could, and she kept thrusting her tongue in and out, before moving back to suck on the Doctor’s clit when her jaw became tired.

“Oh, Yaz, Yaz, _Yaz_ ,” the Doctor moaned, and her hips kept rolling up. “Oh, that’s much different from when I was a man. I like that, I like… that… I…” She trailed off, and then she was just making quiet little noises, squirming under the Doctor and panting harder than she ever did running. 

_Finally found a way to get her to be quiet and tire her out_ , thought Yaz, and she brought her hand up, to lave at the Doctor’s clit with the flat of her tongue. _I’ll have to do this more often when she gets on a tear._ An image slipped into Yaz’s mind, as slick and hot as her tongue slipped along the Doctor’s cunt - dropping to her knees in front of the TARDIS console, undoing the Doctor’s braces and shoving down the Doctor’s trousers and boxers, pressing her face into the humid dampness and licking until the Doctor went just as quiet. The idea of having all of that power over the Doctor was intoxicating, and it made her head spin. 

Yaz moaned into the Doctor’s cunt, and the Doctor moaned back. She was thrashing on the bed like a landed fish, her hips grinding up, forcing her pubic bone against Yaz’s nose. It… wasn’t the most comfortable, truth be told, and Yaz pressed down on the Doctor’s hips and moved her head just enough to free her lips up. “Stay still,” she said, and there was more force in her voice than she had meant there to be.

The Doctor froze all over again, and Yaz wnced. Oh no, she’d said the wrong thing again, hadn’t she. Oh god, the Doctor already had problems with authority, and - 

“I think I like that,” the Doctor said, and she sounded thoughtful. 

“Like what?” Yaz sat up more, so that she wasn’t speaking directly into the Doctor’s cunt. She rested her cheek on the Doctor’s belly, and she listened to the faint internal sounds. 

“Y’know, all… in charge. I like that. I think.” The Doctor wriggled a bit more. “I get all tingly and tight when y’do it, which tends to point towards it.” She sighed. “I didn’t think I’d be interested in being dominated in this body. Last body didn’t like it. Shows what I know, eh?”

“Do you want me to keep doing it?” Yaz sighed, coming back to herself a bit. She was still wet in her pajama shorts, still sweaty and faintly embarrassed. 

“Yeah,” the Doctor said. “Yeah, definitely, please, I… yes.” 

“Right,” said Yaz. “I’m, uh… I’m a little new at this myself. For a warning.”

“Well, you’re doing great so far,” the Doctor said, and Yaz could see the Doctor’s goofy expression in her mind's eye. 

Yaz snorted, and then she kissed the spot right under the Doctor’s navel, rubbing her cheek against the soft skin. She liked the way the Doctor’s voice went a little bit quieter, a little softer. She liked the way the Doctor’s breath hissed out when Yaz’s tongue traced across her clit again, and the way the Doctor’s muscles were trembling, but she was very clearly doing her best to stay still. 

“It’s a l-lot different,” the Doctor said, “the sensation, it’s… from what I used to have. When I used to do this.” She sobbed, as Yaz’s tongue swirled over her clit again. “Yaz, please, it feels…” 

Yaz adjusted her position, sitting up. , She pulled the Doctor closer to her by the ankle, and she shoved the Doctor’s hips up, so that the Doctor’s legs were in the air. She leaned back on her heels to look, and she saw the Doctor’s cunt glisten with the little wisps of light from the windows. Her eyes traveled up the Doctor’s body, to her twitching stomach, to her soft breasts, to her open mouth and mussed hair. “Good different, I hope,” she told the Doctor. She wanted to put her mouth on every single part of the Doctor, the ones she could see and the ones she couldn’t. 

“Very… good different,” the Doctor said, and then she _squealed_ , as Yaz’s mouth descended on her cunt again, from a different angle this time. “Oh, Yaz!” She was clutching at Yaz’s hair, not quite hard enough to hurt. 

Yaz fucked the Doctor with her tongue, using her thumb to rub the Doctor’s clit. She had the Doctor’s knees over her shoulders now, and she was grinding against her own heel. Each little shift of her hips pressed her sensitive clit against the unyielding bone of her foot, and the pleasure was a dull, aching thing. She could hear her heart beating in her ears, and the Doctor was making more of those desperate little noises and clearly trying to stay still. Her cunt was tight and hot around Yaz’s tongue, and her arousal was dripping down Yaz’s chin, smearing along Yaz’s chest. 

Everything was just so _hot_. Hot, damp, smelling like musk and salt and sex. She looked down the Doctor’s body, and she saw the Doctor’s eyes squeezed shut. Yaz could just make it out, in the greyness. That wouldn’t do.

“No,” Yaz said, and she pulled her tongue out, kissed along the Doctor’s slit. “No, open your eyes, I want you to watch me.” Where had any of this _come_ from? She’d never thought of herself as particularly… like that. She’d had a few fantasies, sure, but who didn’t have fantasies about ordering their cute coworker to get on their knees and eat them out?

… Maybe the Doctor wasn’t the only one discovering some things about herself tonight.

“Yes, Yaz, sorry Yaz, I”ll be good, I’ll be good,” the Doctor babbled, and her eyes sprang open. She stared into Yaz’s face, and Yaz kissed up the Doctor’s slit, to the Doctor’s clit. She took it into her mouth and she sucked, her tongue flickering along the Doctor’s clit. 

The Doctor came with a sob, pressing her cunt into Yaz’s mouth. She seemed to have forgotten that she wasn’t supposed to be moving, as she thrashed about on the bed. Yaz could feel the Doctor pulsing against her mouth, and then she was going still, panting like she’d run a race. “I’m kinda curious if I’m multi-orgascmic,” she said, in the same tone of voice she used before pressing a button on the TARDIS she hadn’t seen before. 

“I’d be happy to test it with you,” Yaz said, and she sat up, rubbing her jaw, “but I think my mouth needs a break.” 

“So you don’t want me to kiss you, then,” the Doctor said, her tone teasing. 

“Didn’t say that,” Yaz said, and she leaned forward awkwardly, the Doctor’s knees slipping off of her shoulders to wrap around her hips. Yaz was still smiling as they kissed, and when they pulled apart, the Doctor licked her lips. 

“I don’t taste like I used to,” she said, and her voice was thoughtful. She cupped Yaz’s cheek, pressed her thumb against Yaz’s lower lip. “So many discoveries tonight.” 

“Right,” said Yaz, because she wasn’t sure how to respond to that. 

“Let me take care of you,” said the Doctor, and then she was shifting them around, maneuvering Yaz onto her back. “I want to, please…” There was a pleading note in her voice, something that had more history than Yaz was privy to. 

Yaz found herself flat on her back, the Doctor on top of her. She let herself be kissed, let herself drown in the sensation of another body. The Doctor seemed to be more sure of herself now, at least - she kissed with purpose, her hands cradling Yaz’s face, moving to Yaz’s hair, Yaz’s arms. When they broke apart, she settled next to Yaz, her hands skating across Yaz’s heaving ribs, the softness of her belly, the swells of her breasts. 

“You’re such a marvel,” the Doctor said, her tone reverent. “Humans, you’re just so…” She hooked her thumbs under the waistband of Yaz’s pajama shorts, lowered them down Yaz’s legs. “I can never get enough of you,” she said, and then she was settling herself between Yaz’s thighs. 

Yaz wanted to cover her face, wanted to sink down into the bed and never come out. Even in the dimness, she could tell that the Doctor was staring at her reverently, and to be looked at like _that_ , looked at by the Doctor. How many other women, how many men, how many humans had the Doctor looked at like this? She knew the Doctor was old - didn’t have an exact age, but knew the Doctor was old. The Doctor was old, the Doctor wanted to be dominated, and now the Doctor -

“Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her voice was gentle. Her fingers were equally gentle, as they worked their way up Yaz’s sides. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Yaz said, and she cleared her throat. “Got a little lost in my own head.” 

“It’d be an interesting place to get lost, I think,” the Doctor said. "Wouldn't mind a chance to have a look around myself." She rested her forehead on Yaz’s stomach, and she kissed her. Yaz half expected her to blow a raspberry. It seemed like the kind of thing the Doctor would do. 

Instead, the Doctor kissed her again, a gentle little brush of lips, and it made Yaz break out in goosebumps, her heels digging into the bed. 

“D’you want me to boss you around, too?” The Doctor asked, as if that was just a _thing_ that you asked a lover. “I’m pretty good at it. Loads of practice!”

Yaz could feel the smile tugging at her lips. “I think I’ll be okay for now,” she told the Doctor, and she tried not to squirm too much as the Doctor’s fingers ran ticklishly across her belly, along her ribs. 

“Sing out if you ever feel the need,” the Doctor said, and then she was wriggling about, lying flat on her belly between Yaz’s legs. 

Yaz threaded her fingers through the Doctor’s blond hair, and she sighed as the Doctor’s hot breath gusted across her wet slit. The Doctor seemed to just _fit_ between her legs, and then the Doctor was using her lips and her tongue along the tip of Yaz’s clit. The pleasure was sweet and all consuming, moving up Yaz’s back, to join the heat already rising in her gut. The Doctor was opening her mouth wider, and she was tapping out some secret message on Yaz’s clit with her clever tongue. Yaz tugged on her hair, and the Doctor hummed, closed her lips around Yaz’s clit.

It all blurred together. Yaz couldn’t really keep track of what it was that the Doctor was doing, she just let herself get lost in it. The Doctor’s fingers were kneading at her hips reassuringly, and the Doctor’s mouth was hungry and lush, licking and sucking and slurping at Yaz’s cunt like she was afraid it would be taken away from her. She ate Yaz out with the same kind of enthusiasm she applied to everything else in life; messy, all in, and in ways that Yaz hadn’t ever experienced before.

… Admittedly, Yaz didn’t have much experience in the first place, but still.

Yaz’s orgasm broke through her like an egg being cracked, spreading bright along her nerves, her cunt pulsing against the Doctor’s mouth. The Doctor kept her mouth on Yaz’s clit, just the right amount of pressure, until Yaz nudged her away. 

“Well,” the Doctor said, and she sat back on her heels. Yaz couldn’t see her face in the dimness, but she was practically radiating smugness. “I’ve got good news and i’ve got bad news.” 

“Bad news? What bad news?” _Is there something wrong with my vagina? What kind of bad news could she give me at a time like this?_

“Well,” said the Doctor, “the good news is that I’m still as good at that as I remember.” She flopped onto the bed next to Yaz, stretched out full length, pillowing her head on her arm. “I enjoy it as much as I used to, too.” She leaned forward, rubbing noses with Yaz. Her whole face _reeked_ of Yaz’s cunt, and Yaz wrinkled her own nose. It was a weird mix of disgusting and adorable, as endearing as everything else the Doctor did. 

“So what’s the bad news?” Yaz yawned, considered getting up to wash her face. She was already past the point of damp and into sticky. 

“That wasn’t what I was craving either,” the Doctor said. 

It took Yaz a second to put together what it was that the Doctor meant. She groaned, shoving her face into the pillow. “You’re lucky I’m not kicking you out of this bed,” she told the Doctor. 

The Doctor snorted, and she pulled Yaz closer, and Yaz rested her head on the Doctor’s chest. She fell asleep to the sound of the Doctor’s lungs inflating, and the double beat of her hearts.

4, Glitter Cupcakes

“We should get cupcakes,” the Doctor said in a decisive tone. 

“Cupcakes?” Graham looked up from his book. “What kind of cupcakes?”

“ _Glitter_ cupcakes,” the Doctor said with pride. “I know a place to get excellent edible glitter.” 

“How do you know how to find edible glitter?” Ryan stretched his feet out under the picnic table, and leaned back, admiring the sunset.

“If anyone in the world would know how to find edible glitter, it’d be the Doc,” Graham put in. 

“Edible glitter isn’t that odd, y’know,” said the Doctor. “They’ve got it ‘round in your time, on Earth.” 

“They might have it, but I still view it as a crime against nature,” Graham said. “Never liked glitter.”

“What do you have against glitter? It’s a perfectly wonderful craft supply.” The Doctor flopped onto the picnic bench next to Yaz, and their thighs were pressed tight together. Then the Doctor’s hand slid into Yaz’s, right there under the table. 

“Thanks for bringing us here,” Yaz said, and she squeezed the Doctor’s hand. They were almost at the end of a cliff, parked in a little out of the way spot by a great canyon. It reminded Yaz of pictures she’d seen of the Grand Canyon, but… moreso. There was a whole forest of trees that smelled a bit like pine crossed with thyme behind them, and strange birds were calling in the trees. The sky was turning the color of diluted orange juice as the two suns set, and everything felt like something out of a painting. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The Doctor sounded reverent, and when Yaz glanced over, she saw that the Doctor’s eyes kept darting between the view before them and Yaz’s face. 

"Glitter ain't beautiful," said Ryan. "Glitter is craft herpes." 

"That's not a very nice thing to say," said the Doctor. She was running her fingers along the tips of Yaz's nails. Yaz's nails, which had just been trimmed. "See if I bring you any cupcakes."

"What brought on this sudden need for cupcakes?" Graham rested his elbows on the picnic table, his chin on his hands. 

"I've still go that -" The Doctor began.

"Craving," the rest of Team TARDIS chimed in.

"Still?" Yaz ran her thumb along the Doctor's palm, and the Doctor shivered, which made Yaz grin.

"Still," the Doctor agreed. She was shifting, jiggling her leg, and she sighed when Yaz squeezed her knee. 

"Maybe you don't have a craving," said Graham. "Maybe you just want to travel."

"Since when does the Doctor need an excuse to travel?" Ryan shot back. 

The Doctor grinned. "Exactly," she said, and then she was popping up. "I'm going to get cupcakes! Back in a tick!"

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to go off and leave us on this alien planet?" Graham looked faintly nervous. 

"Back in a tick," the Doctor insisted, and she squeezed Yaz's fingers again. "Unless you wanna come?"

"I'm too comfortable," said Ryan, and he stretched, his hands going behind his head. "You'll be back, right?"

"Of course," said the Doctor. "What about you, Graham?”

“I’m gonna keep admiring the view,” Graham said, waving his arms to indicate the whole panorama in from of them.

“Yaz?” 

“Y’mind if I stay here?” Yaz rested her elbows on the picnic table. “It’s just so…” She ade a vague hand motion. 

“Peaceful,” Graham suggested.

“Right, peaceful,” Yaz agreed. “We don’t get peaceful that often,” she added.

“That’s perfectly fine,” the Doctor said. She gave Yaz’s hand another squeeze, then leaned towards Yaz… then leaned back. It seemed like she had been about to kiss Yaz, then changed her mind. 

Yaz couldn’t really blame her - they hadn _told_ Ryan and Graham about… all of that, just yet. Whatever “that” happened to be. She still wasn’t entirely sure herself, yet. She knew that she liked kissing the Doctor, liked fucking her and sleeping next to her and listening to her talk and all the millions of other things that they did now. She didn’t know how these sorts of things… worked, especially when one party was human and the other was a Time Lord. 

“I’ll bring you all cupcakes,” the Doctor said, and then she was standing up and making her way towards the TARDIS. “Back in a tick!”

The TARDIS groaned its way out, and Graham turned to Yaz. “I always worry when she does that,” he said.

“Does what?” Shit, had Graham noticed anything? The guy was pretty canny, when he wanted to be. 

“Leaves of someplace, and goes off with the TARDIS,” said Graham. “What if we end up stuck here.”

“There are worse places to be stuck,” said Ryan, and he rested his elbows on the table. “Look at that sky. Never thought I’d seen a sky so wide.”

“We should go to the Grand Canyon next,” said Yaz, her tone dreamy. “See all those amazing natural wonders all through the world.”

“We should ask if other planets have a Grand Canyon,” Ryan agreed. “I feel like that’s one of them things all… intelligent beings do. We’re drawn to big holes in the ground.”

There was more groning, and then the TARDIS was materializing again, a few inches to the left of where it had been originally. The Doctor came out a moment later, holding a white bakery box. 

“Told you I’d be back,” she said, and her voice was as cheerful as ever. “Didja miss me? Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“You were gone for less than five minutes, Doc,” Graham said. “I dunno what kind of interesting could happen in that much time.”

“There’s _loads_ of interesting stuff I could get up to in five minutes,” the Doctor protested, and she set the box on the table. ‘Voila! Glitter cupcakes!” She opened up the top of the box, and Yaz gaped.

“That can’t be real,” Yaz said, staring wide eyed. The cupcakes were indeed glittery - they reminded Yaz of the Christmas decorations she had seen in the shops growing up. Those had been reindeer and Santa and Jesus, all covered up in glitter. These… were cupcakes, topped with a big dollop of glittery frosting. 

“They are!” The Doctor slid next to Yaz, pressing close enough that they were hip to hip, and she took a cupcake topped with glittery purple frosting out. “See, look! Real”

“Wow,” said Graham, and he took out a green one. “This doesn’t look like food”

“It looks like play food,” Ryan interjected. “Y’know, when you’re a little kid and you get the plastic kitchen, and there’s all the food that looked better ‘n real?”

“I remember that,” said Yaz. “My sister used to try to eat the fake chicken legs.”

“Who could blame ‘er,” said the Doctor, as she squirmed in place. “As the great Terry Pratchett said, ‘things that try to look like things often look more like things than things.’” 

Yaz paused, parsing the sentence.

“Is this going to do unpleasant things to my insides?” Graham broke the silence. 

‘It shouldn’t,” said the Doctor.”They’re from Earth. Charming little cafe in the twenty third century!” 

“How do they get the sprinkles to be so… glittery?” Yaz took a blue cupcake, and she held it up to the setting sun. The glitter caught the light and refracted like a disco ball. 

“I can take you back ‘n you can ask, if you’d like,” the Doctor said, blithe as ever. She took a dollop of frosting off with her finger and licked it. Her eyes fluttered closed, and Yaz was reminded of the look on the Doctor’s face when two of Yaz’s fingers slid inside of her, thumb resting on the Doctor’s clit. 

That was not a thing she should have been thinking about, sitting next to Graham and Ryan like this. To hide her own embarrassment, Yaz took a big bite out of her own cupcake, getting frosting and cake at the same time. It was sweet - cloyingly sweet, with a slight blueberry flavor mixed with the buttercream. The glittery sugar crunched between her teeth almost like sand, and she made a face, and put the cupcake down on the picnic table. 

The Doctor was making a face, as she took more bites of the cupcake. It was the same dissatisfied face that Yaz was beginning to get to know well. 

“D’you not like it?” Ryan asked, as he licked the frosting off of his own cupcake.

“No, no, it’s great,” the Doctor said. “It’s just -”

“Not what I’ve been craving,” the other three chimed in. 

The Doctor grinned at them, her nose wrinkling up. She had a glob of purple frosting on the tip of it. 

“You’re a mess,” Yaz said, and she looked over at the box. “Didja bring napkins?” 

“I got it,” the Doctor said, and she wiped the frosting off of her nose and licked it off with obvious enthusiasm. 

Graham had finished his cupcake down, but was looking faintly ill, and Ryan was taking a second one with obvious enjoyment. “How can you eat those things?” Graham said. “It’s like chewing on pure sugar!”

“Delicious, delicious sugar!” The Doctor protested. “You humans love it! Sugar, salt, and fat!” 

“Real nice, that is,” Ryan grumbled, but he was grinning as he licked more frosting off of his fingers.

“I’m gonna go have a lie down,” Graham said. “I think I ate that too quickly.”

“I think I’ve had enough fresh air,” Ryan agreed. “May do a few laps in the swimming pool.”

“I’m gonna keep enjoying the view,” said Yaz. “How long is this sunset gonna last, anyway?”

“Couple of years,” said the Doctor, casual as anything. 

“Oh,” said Yaz. “Wow.”’

“Good planet for picture postcards,” said the Doctor. “I’m always for a good picture postcard. Could put one up on my fridge. One of my fridges. I’ve got a lot of fridges.” She was jiggling her leg, and she was eating another cupcake, her tongue darting out to catch the little dabs of icing. 

When the TARDIS door closed behind them, the Doctor put down the cupcake, she looked faintly nervous, and then she was kissing Yaz on the mouth, her lips gritty with glittery sugar.

Yaz kissed her back, then pulled back, glancing around nervously. She was still getting used to kissing _anyone_ in public, let alone the Doctor. For a given value of “public.” “Ryan and Graham could come out any moment,” Yaz murmured.

“They won’t,” the Doctor said with conviction, and then she was kissing Yaz again, more fervently this time. Her mouth tasted like frosting, and there were a few cake crumbs on her cheeks. 

“You’re a mess,” Yaz scolded, but she was grinning a bit in spite of herself, licking her lips. 

“Didn’t do it on purpose,” the Doctor said, but she was turning very pink, her fingers clutching at the shoulders of Yaz’s shoulders. “I think I like that.” 

“Like what?” Yaz shivered. The Doctor’s eyes were very dark, and her cheeks were very flushed. 

“When you say stuff like that to me,” said the Doctor. She bit her lip, looked at the dark wood of the picnic table, then looked back up at Yaz. “I like that.”

“When I say you’re a mess?” Yaz swiped a handful of frosting off of the Doctor’s cheek, and she pressed her thumb against the Doctor’s lower lip, then down on the Doctor’s tongue. 

“Yes,” the Doctor said, only slightly garbled around the thumb in her mouth. “I think I like it.”

“Because you’re a messy little thing,” Yaz said, improvising. 

They’d been trying that too. The Doctor liked being bossed around, liked being embarrassed. If only Yaz was actually any _good_ at doing it without feeling silly. 

“Not on purpose,” the Doctor mumbled. She was squirming, pressing her thighs together Her eyes were avoiding Yaz’s, and her ever anxious fingers were tapping away at the picnic table. “Can I have another cupcake?” It was novel, having the Doctor ask for things instead of just going for it, but she seemed to like taking orders from Yaz. 

“You’ve already had one,” said Yaz. “Greedy and messy, aren’t you?” 

The Doctor’s face was turning redder. Yaz tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and saw that it was turning red. The Doctor shivered as Yaz traced along the shell of her ear, and Yaz grinned. 

“Greedy and messy and... and horny.” Yaz only blushed a little bit as she said it. She liked the shock of heat to the center of her stomach, the way the Doctor seemed to be sucking harder at her thumb. 

The Doctor nodded, and she took more of Yaz’s thumb into her mouth, sucked on it desperately. Yaz’s fingers were curled under the Doctor’s chin, and she was pressing her thumb in and out of the Doctor’s mouth. _If I had a cock, that would feel amazing_ , Yaz thought, looking down at the Doctor’s face, cheeks hollowed out, eyes fluttering closed. That thought sent a deep throb of heat into her belly, and that was unexpected. 

“I’ll be good,” the Doctor said, and that made Yaz grin. 

“You’ve never been good a day in your life,” she teased the Doctor, and she pulled her thumb out slowly, rubbing it along the Doctor’s lips, gathering up more frosting. 

“I’ll be good for you,” the Doctor promised earnestly. “I will be.” 

“You’ll do what I say?” Yaz’s thumb was wet and sticky now - lacking anything else to do with it, she pressed it back into the Doctor’s mouth.

“I mean, if it’s a life or death situation, I’d have to step up,” the Doctor said, her voice garbled, and she had lost some of that dreamy biddability that had been creeping on the edges of her face. “And, y’know, I know when it comes to the TARDIS -”

“Doctor,” Yaz said, and then she began to giggle. She pulled her thumb out of the Doctor’s mouth, and she wiped it clean on her jeans - she’d have to do laundry later anyway. “Doctor, that’s not what I…” She began to laugh now, and maybe some of it was fueled by sugar, and some of it was tension dissipating. 

“I just ruined the moment, didn’t I?” The Doctor wrinkled her nose, and when Yaz met her eyes, the two of them were laughing, hard enough that the table shook. “I’m sorry,” the Doctor said, as she caught her breath. “I just… I can’t really turn my brain off. Don’t really make for good submitting, does it?” 

“You’re doing your best,” Yaz said quickly. “Best I’ve ever done this kind of thing with!”

“Have you ever done this kind of thing before?” The Doctor counterd.

“Not really, no,” said Yaz. “I mean…” She shrugged. “I’d be willing to try most things with you.” 

“What, most things?” The Doctor lit up. “Even the weird stuff? Because there is a _lot_ of weird stuff, and I’m not even sure what would count as weird at this point, what with one thing and another…” She paused, reached for a cupcake. 

Yaz caught her wrist, squeezed it. “You asked me if you could have a cupcake, and now you’re just taking one,” Yaz said, and she tried to make herself sound… in charge. Dominant. She wasn’t sure if she was actually any good at it, but she liked the way the Doctor shivered. 

“I guess I’m not that good at being obedient,’ the Doctor said, and she gave Yaz a sheepish grin.

“Never would’ve guessed,” Yaz said, her voice was dry as old bones. She was still holding on to the Doctor’s wrist, and she brought the Doctor’s hand towards her mouth, and kissed it. “D’you want another chance?”

“I’m always one for second chances,” the Doctor said earnestly. “And third chances, and fourth ones, and fifth…” 

Yaz kissed her on the mouth again, tasting more frosting, her tongue tracing along the blunt edges of the Doctor’s teeth. The Doctor’s tongue was inside of her mouth now, and then the Doctor was clutching at Yaz’s shirt… and getting it sticky.

Yaz broke the kiss, and she looked down. “You’re a mess,” she told the Doctor, because that had worked so well. It seemed to be working this time too, judging by the way the Doctor was squirming. “You’re a mess, and... I want you to sit in my lap. To keep you from making any more of a mess.”

“In your lap. Like, right now?” The Doctor eyed the picnic table that Yaz’s legs were tucked under. 

“In a second,” Yaz grumbled, rolling her eyes good naturedly. She swung her legs out from under the picnic table, and she patted her lap. “You gonna be a good girl and come sit?” Was “good girl” okay?”

The Doctor shivered again, and she sighed. “Never been a good girl before,” she said quietly, as she got up off of the picnic bench and stretched her legs. She looked very tall from this angle, and Yaz’s heart beat a little faster. What would it be like to get on _her_ knees and ask the Doctor if _she_ could be a good girl? 

… That was an idea to pursue on a different night, because now the Doctor was straddling her thigh, hands on Yaz’s shoulders. 

“Cheeky little bugger, aren’t you?” Yaz said, her hands sliding into the Doctor’s coat, holding on to the Doctor’s waist. “You’re still getting me all sticky.” She jiggled her knee, just to feel the Doctor’s thighs cling a little tighter to her leg. 

“It ‘s the frosting getting you sticky, not me,” the Doctor pointed out, logical as ever. Her fingers were going to Yaz’s face, and Yaz kissed her palm, then let the Doctor’s sticky fingers slide into her mouth. She sucked them free of the sugary icing, and she kissed the tip of each one. The Doctor looked faintly shocked, her eyes going dark. 

“The frosting on your fingers, which you are putting on my face,” said Yaz. On a whim, she groped around next to her and grabbed a handful of frosting, rubbing it into the Doctor’s cheek. “That’s me getting you all sticky, not the frosting.”

The Doctor moaned. It wasn’t a gentle moan, either - this was the kind of porn star moan that Yaz associated with guilty evenings under the covers streaming porn. The Doctor turned her head face towards the frosting on her face, and she took Yaz’s sticky, frosting covered fingers into her mouth and sucked on them desperately. 

_Huh_.

That wasn’t expected. 

Yaz stroked the Doctor’s tongue with two fingers, pressing them in deeper, and the Doctor moaned again, the sensation vibrating up the bones of her fingers. “Did I get you messy, or did the frosting?” Yaz moved her finger, so that she was pressing down on the roof of the Doctor’s mouth, and the Doctor’s tongue slid between her knuckles. 

The Doctor was drooling down her own chin, down Yaz’s arm. She sucked sloppily, noisily, and she bobbed her head like she was sucking a cock, and _that_ was doing things to Yaz too, leaving her wet and desperate between the legs. She wanted… she wanted everything at once, and she didn’t know what all of it was, except that it was burning in the pit of her stomach like the heart of a star.

Yaz stroked the Doctor’s chin, and she made the Doctor look her in the face, to meet her eyes. “You like being messy, don’t you, Doctor? Like making big messes.” She rubbed more frosting into the Doctor’s cheek, and the Doctor’s tongue darted out, trying to get to the frosting on her face. 

The Doctor moaned, squirmed, and she was grinding against Yaz’s thigh, and she was clutching at Yaz’s shoulders.

Getting Yaz stickier.

“Nope,” Yaz said, “hands behind your back.” She pulled her fingers out from the Doctor’s mouth, and grabbed the Doctor’s wrists. “Hold on to your elbows.”

“That’s a little, um... “ The Doctor licked her lips. “Precarious.” 

Yaz held on to the Doctor’s waist with one hand, taking in the sensation of the Doctor’s stomach rising and falling with each breath. “D’you trust me?” They were sharing a look - an intense look, the kind of look that had something deeper. But if the Doctor could ask that sort of thing from Yaz, Yaz could ask it back.

“I trust you,” the Doctor said. “I’ll even trust you if I fall off.” She settled herself into Yaz’s lap, grinding down just enough to make a point, and Yaz grinned. 

Yaz jiggled her leg, and the Doctor kept holding on to her elbows, her knees digging into Yaz’s thigh. They were very pointy, and the Doctor was heavy enough that it almost felt like a workout. “You’re gonna come like this,” Yaz told the Doctor. “For me.” 

“You’re awfully confident,” the Doctor said, and she smiled her flirting smile through her eyelashes. 

“You… you’re going to be a good girl,” said Yaz, and the Doctor shuddered, her hips grinding forward, pressing the seam of her trousers against Yaz’s thigh. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me, and ask me nicely for more frosting, and if you’re very good you’ll get to come.” The Doctor was getting warmer, or maybe that was Yaz herself? 

“I thought you just said that you were going to make me come,” the Doctor said, all bratty flirtation. 

Yaz rolled her eyes, and she grabbed another finger’s worth of frosting, and shoved it into the Doctor’s mouth. “As nice as this is,” she said, jiggling her leg, “I think it’s probably kind of out in the open. If Ryan or Graham saw us... that’d be bad.” 

The Doctor’s eyes went wide, and she nodded. She was sucking the frosting off of Yaz’s fingers desperately, and her hips were working faster. It was all very frantic, and it left Yaz’s heart beating in her throat, arousal building low in her gut at the sight of the Doctor’s desperate face. 

“But you’re going to be a good girl for me, Doctor, you’re gonna come like this, right?” She fucked into the Doctor’s mouth, grabbed more frosting, and she rubbed it into the Doctor’s lips. “You’re gonna be a good girl and come like this, before we get caught, and then we’ll go back in the TARDIS and wash off all this mess.” The Doctor’s skin was so _silky_ , and the Doctor whined in the back of her throat. Her lips were sticky with frosting against Yaz’s fingers, and her breasts were heaving under her shirt.

The Doctor wobbled, and Yaz held on to her waist, steadied her. The Doctor was humping her desperately, rubbing off on Yaz’s leg. She kept sucking, and she was drooling harder, her hair flopping into her face. She leaned in closer, and she took the fingers deeper into her mouth. Her mouth was so hot, so wet, and her tongue was like velvet, flickering along Yaz’s fingers. 

“I bet you’re close,” Yaz said, and she brought a hand up, to cup the Doctor’s breast, pinching a nipple through all the layers. The Doctor’s face screwed up, teeth digging into Yaz’s fingers. “I bet you’re real close, because you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you Doctor?” She stroked the Doctor’s chin with her thumb, and then the Doctor was leaning forward, until they were forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Yaz’s wrist was going to cramp soon, if she wasn’t careful. The weight of the Doctor against her was enough to make her head spin, to mix with the sugar rush. Could you get a contact sugar rush? 

The Doctor’s teeth clamped down on Yaz’s finger, and her breath huffed across Yaz’s face. Her face scrunched up as she came, and her mouth fell open, letting Yaz see the pinkness of her tongue. She was breathing desperately, and she was shaking so hard that Yaz took her hand out of the Doctor’s mouth, to keep her from falling over.

“I kept my arms up,” the Doctor said, and her voice cracked. She sounded proper proud of herself, too. 

“Good job,” Yaz said, and she kissed the Doctor on the mouth, tasting gritty sugar and soft, warm breath. “Good girl.”

“Fuck,” the Doctor said, and her voice cracked. “I’ve done… many things, Yaz, and I think that… wow.” She was still shaking, and she kissed the Doctor again, deeper and softer, and... oh. _Oh_. 

“I did okay?” Yaz tried not to sound too nervous. “I did… I mean, I’ve never done that before.” 

“You did amazing,” the Doctor said, and now her hands were coming towards Yaz’s face… and then they were falling down. “But I am very sticky,” she added. “We should have a shower, before I offer you anything… fun.” She raised an eyebrow and waggled her fingers again. “Sugar and all that doesn’t go well with the kinds of things I’d like to do.” 

“I appreciate you thinking of that before I did,” Yaz admitted. “I’m half tempted to ask you to get me off right here and now.” She bit her lip - that was a bit more straightforward than she was, but… still. 

The Doctor kissed Yaz on the cheek, and her lips were very sticky. 

“I’m sorry you still can’t figure out your craving, though,” said Yaz. “I know it must be driving you nuts.” 

“I’ll figure it out eventually,” the Doctor said, and she sounded like she more or less believed herself. 

5\. Pickled Space “Fish”

"I think I know what my craving is!" The Doctor said. 

"Is now the best time?!" Yaz ducked as the things dubbed "piranha-goats" by Graham threw another rock at her. 

"You've still got that craving?" Ryan said, and then he tripped, and nearly got a face full of mud.

"I repeat," Yaz said, and she ducked, " _not the time!_ "

"I'll tell ya later," the Doctor promised, and then she was pointing her sonic at the net that she had planted. 

There was a sensation like _whump_ , if not the sound, and then there was a lot of snapping and bleating.

"Best part," said the Doctor, "is they'll probably have it at the feast!"

"Feast?" Graham wiped the mud off of his hands, then offered his handkerchief to Ryan.

Ryan took it, wiping his knees off awkwardly. "I could do with a feast," he agreed. "Been a while since we had a proper feast." 

"This is gonna be brilliant," said the Doctor, and she was positively _beaming_ at Yaz. 

Yaz blushed, but she found herself grinning back. 

* * *

"So," the Doctor said, as the four of them sat together at the victory feast, "I think I figured out my craving."

Yaz looked down at her plate. There was something on the plate in front of her - something jiggly, that smelled like... she wasn't sure what it was that she was smelling, except she didn't like it. "I think that you're just using that craving as an excuse to drag us around," Yaz said. 

"As if I need an excuse to drag you lot around," the Doctor said cheerfully, and she flagged down one of the sheep people, a great ram with spiraling horns. She said... something, only the word wasn't being translated, and that never boded well. If the TARDIS wasn't translating, that usually meant things were about to get interesting. "I ordered enough for all of us!"

"What are we getting, anyway?" Graham asked. 

Another sheep person - a lady this time - came out, and she was carrying multiple plates on her arms and her hands, trying not to trip. 

"A specialty of this planet," the Doctor said, as the plates were all set in front of them.

"That doesn't answer my question," said Yaz, looking down at the plate in front of her. It looked a bit... well, it wasn't the most appetizing thing that Yaz had ever seen. She glanced sidelong over at the Doctor, where their thighs were pressed together.

"Would I ever give you something bad?" The Doctor looked faintly offended.

"Not on purpose, no," said Yaz, "but sometimes we have different ideas of what's good and what's... not good." She was being diplomatic, at the very least. 

"Y'don't have faith in me, do you?" The Doctor pouted. "How many wonderful things have I shown you, that you don't believe me?"

"Fine," Yaz said, and she picked up her fork and prodded the thing on her plate.

It wobbled.

"Doc, what, exactly are we eating?" Graham was prodding it as well.

The Doctor took her own fork, and she stabbed it into the gelatinous mass on the plate. "Local fish dish," she said, and then she grinned. "Oo, lookit me, rhyming."

"I've had fish," Yaz said. "I like fish." Not entirely true - she preferred other kinds of meat to fish, but... still. She'd had fish. Fish might not have been her favorite, but at least it was familiar. She lifted the spoon (tried to ignore the way it jiggled), and she put it in her mouth.

"Of course," the Doctor said, her tone reflective, "I _say_ it's fish, but it's not exactly a fish as you lot think of fish."

Yaz did not spit out what was in her mouth. She had done many brave things, many terrifying things, many strange things, but this... this was her most heroic act. She forced herself to swallow - she didn't have to chew, because it was already starting to dissolve in her mouth - and then she took the glass of cold tea-ish substance and drank it.

She could still taste it. She didn't want to think of what it tasted like, except "vaguely chemical" and "vaguely like low tide" except... moreso. 

Ryan was staring at her with a concerned expression. "You alright, Yaz?"

"What do you mean it's not fish as we think of it, exactly?" He was looking down at the plate in front of him. 

"More kind of a worm. Sort of. Fill the same ecological niche as fish, though." The Doctor was taking bites, speaking with her mouth full. 

"You're feeding us space worms?" Ryan's voice was indignant. 

"They're perfectly edible," the Doctor said, and then she wrinkled her nose. "Don't seem to be what I was craving, though." 

"How horrible for you," Yaz said flatly, and took a big gulp of water. She could still taste the chemical burn rotten fishiness of… whatever that was. 

"I'll find it in time," the Doctor said cheerfully. "Y'gonna finish that, Yaz?"

"All yours," Yaz said, pushing her plate towards the Doctor. When they got back to the TARDIS, she was going to have a sandwich, and maybe drink half a gallon of milk to get that horrible taste out of her mouth. 

At least the Doctor was happy. 

* * *

Yaz stood in the TARDIS's green and purple kitchen (the one with three different blenders scattered about) and ate an orange. The sharp citrus flavor was a welcome respite from the lingering fishiness (worminess? Urgh) and she sighed. The TARDIS thrummed around her as they stayed parked in the time vortex, and Yaz felt herself finally starting to relax. 

She was always tense after an adventure. They all had their own little rituals - Ryan with his YouTube, Graham holed up in the library. Yaz was going to finish her orange, then go to her room and watch a movie, maybe some trash television. 

There was the sound of boots on the floor, and then the Doctor came in. "Hello! Why are you here?"

Yaz blinked. "There's always fresh fruit in this kitchen," she told the Doctor, and took another section of orange, letting the sweetness coat her tongue.

“Oh, is there?” The Doctor looked faintly surprised. She’d rolled her sleeves up, and her hair was a mess, the way it always was when she’d been up to her elbows in something mechanical. “She must like you.”

“Who, the TARDIS?” Yaz licked a splash of juice down from her wrist, and caught the Doctor’s eyes tracking her tongue. 

“Yeah,” the Doctor said, and her voice was only a little breathless. “She usually just leaves this kitchen empty.”

“It’s nice to be liked,” said Yaz, and she patted one of the counters. 

“I like you,” the Doctor said, and then she was in Yaz’s space, belly to belly. She pressed her forehead against Yaz’s, rubbing her nose against Yaz’s, and Yaz had to turn her face away. 

“I like you too, Doctor,” Yaz said, “but your breath doesn’t half stink.”

The Doctor wrinkled her nose. “You really didn’t like that dish we had, did we?” She sounded sympathetic. It also smelled very fishy.

“Nope,” Yaz said. “Sorry.” She ate another piece of orange.

The Doctor took a piece as well, and she sighed as she chewed. “You got any plans for the rest of the evening? Well, I say evening, but it’s not _really_ evening, it just sort of feels like an evening since we’ve all been doing loads of stuff and are at the decompression phase at this point.” 

Yaz let the talk wash over her, and she shared more of her orange with the Doctor. “I’m not doing anything,” she told the Doctor. “Was planning on going to me room, watching a movie.”

“Y’wanna come to mine instead? My room, I mean, since technically all of this is mine,” said the Doctor and she was looking at Yaz in a way that felt downright _proprietary_. Yaz wasn’t sure how she felt about that intellectually, but the familiar heat of arousal bloomed in her belly. 

“To watch movies in your room?” Yaz licked some of the orange juice off of the back of her hand, and she smiled when the Doctor blushed. 

“Yeah,” said the Doctor. “If you’d like to, obviously. No pressure f you don’t.”

“Sure,” said Yaz. “Could be fun. Didn’t know you had a room, actually.” She paused. “My hands are all sticky, though. Gonna give them a wash.” 

“I do sleep, sometimes,” the Doctor said. “Just not usually.”

“I’ve seen you sleeping,” said Yaz, as she washed her hands in the sink, then splashed some water on her face. “Would you like a drink of water?” She asked, in hopes that the Doctor would take the hint. 

“Nah, I’m good,” said the Doctor, and she interlaced their hands, not seeming to mind the fact that Yaz’s hand was still wet. “Movies with Yaz!” 

Yaz let herself be towed after the Doctor, and she was grinning in spite of herself. If nothing else, there wasn’t going to be any kissing until the Doctor had brushed her teeth. 

* * *

The Doctor’s bedroom was huge and it was cluttered. It was dominated by a giant round… bed? Couch? Yaz wasn’t sure, except that it was soft and covered with blankets and pillows and plushies. The lights were golden, and low enough that Yaz could easily see herself falling asleep without too much trouble. 

“Sorry, bit of a mess,” said the Doctor, as she kicked her boots off and shrugged out of her coat, draping it across the back of a chair. “I think I’m kinda messy, as me. Still got that new bedroom feel, though!”

“This is a new bedroom? I thought you said you’ve had the TARDIS for ages?” Yaz kicked her own shoes off, then flopped back onto the bed. It seemed to engulf her like a marshmallow, and she sank down, luxuriating in the softness. 

“I have,” said the Doctor, and she crawled onto the bed as well, flopping down next to Yaz, “but I haven’t always been… me. I mean, I was always _me_ , but I wasn’t me as I’m now me.” Her fingers found Yaz’s, and she squeezed them. 

“Always sounds a bit weird when you talk about it like that,” Yaz said, and she yawned. The room was comfortably warm, and the bed was just so _soft_. She had her head on the stomach of a giant plush tiger, and the Doctor was groping around for something. 

“Isn’t really another way of putting it,” said the Doctor, and then she was flopping again. “My legs aren’t half sore from all that running we did today!” 

“It was the sand,” said Yaz. “Running on sand is supposed to be harder on your feet. Harder on your feet and on your calves.”

“Totally believe it,’ said the Doctor. “How’s your feet doing?” 

Yaz looked down the line of her body and wriggled her toes. “Pretty good, I think,” she said. “Sore, but I’ll be fine for some resting.” 

“What d’you feel like watching?” The Doctor was holding a remote in her hand, and she clicked something. The wall of the Doctor’s room clicked on as well, and suddenly the colors were a little sharper. The whole wall was one giant screen. 

“I dunno,” said Yaz. “You choose.” She paused, “Nothing too science-y, though, I need to let my brain relax.” Another pause. “And no police procedurals, or I’ll get mad when they get things wrong and I’m supposed to be trying to relax.” 

The Doctor snorted, a huff of warm air across the top of Yaz’s head. “Yasmin Kahn, you are a wonder,” she said, and her tone was fond.

‘What’s got you so sappy?” Yaz looked up at the Doctor, and caught the Doctor looking back at her with an utterly besotted expression. 

“I just…” The Doctor flopped back onto her side, and she shrugged. “We survived another day. We had an adventure, and now I get to come back here and be with you. It makes me happy.” The Doctor pulled Yaz closer, until Yaz’s head was cushioned on her breast. The Doctor’s hearts beat up against Yaz’s ear, and it was oddly calming. “It’s nice to be happy again,” she said, and her voice was contemplative, resonating through Yaz’s head.

“I’m glad I make you happy,” Yaz said quietly. ‘You make me happy, too.” 

“I’m glad,” the Doctor said, and then she stretched, and began to scroll through an endless list of options. “So you’re okay with whatever I put on?”

“Long as it meets my criteria,” Yaz mumbled, and she snuggled in closer, her face pressed into the stripe of the Doctor’s shirt. 

* * *

The Doctor put on some baking competition, and it was as soothing as any of the other shows that Yaz’s dad liked. She dozed in and out, tangentially aware of what was happening around her. At one point the Doctor got up, then came back, and then there was another episode with a blue lady cooking green cake.

At some point, the Doctor got up again, and she was sitting up, right by Yaz’s feet. She had taken a foot into her lap, Yaz was only vaguely aware of the Doctor removing her socks.

“Marvel of engineering, the human foot,” the Doctor said, and she was pressing her thumbs into the sole of Yaz’s. 

“Mmm?” Yaz blinked at her, still in that hazy, dozy place. “When you put it like that, you make it sound like we were designed like an iPhone.”

“You were designed _much_ better than an iPhone,” the Doctor scolded, and she was beginning to knead at Yaz’s foot, hard enough that it almost hurt in the best way possible. “Steve never listened to any of my design suggestions, did he, and now look - why are you looking at me like that, Yaz?” 

Yaz could feel herself grinning, and she didn’t even try to hide it. “You’re cute,” Yaz told the Doctor, and she nudged the Doctor in the side with her bare foot, then tugged on the Doctor’s braces with her toes. 

“Am I?” The Doctor looked vaguely flummoxed. “How’m I doin’ that, then?” 

Yaz shrugged, a complicated maneuver when she was lying down like that. “You just _are_ ,” she said. “One of the fundamental truths of the universe.” 

“Wasn’t cute the last time ‘round,” the Doctor said, as she kept massaging Yaz’s foot. “Might’ve been the time before that. I got called cute by a few people. And the time before that.”

“There’s been a lot of yous,” said Yaz, and she yawned.

“There have,” the Doctor agreed, and her fingers slid between Yaz’s toes. 

Yaz squeezed them.

“Does it bother you?” The Doctor’s tone was casual, and her hands were steady as they massaged Yaz’s foot, but she was avoiding Yaz’s eyes.

“What, that there’s been a bunch of you?” Yaz curled her toes against the Doctor’s side, then around the Doctor’s finger. “Nah. I mean…” She amended, “it’s weird, but there’s a lot of things that’re weird about you. At least I know it’ll always be interesting.” She wanted to say more - wanted to pour her feelings out, wanted to ask the Doctor all the billions of questions boiling around inside, but… well, this didn’t feel like the right time.

The Doctor sighed, and she lifted Yaz’s foot up to her face, nuzzling her nose into the arch. She kissed the heel, and Yaz made a surprised noise. “What?” The Doctor looked perplexed all over again.

“What are you _doing_?” Yaz tried not to giggle - the Doctor’s breath was ticklish across the sole of her foot. 

“You’ve got nice feet,” the Doctor said, as if that was an explanation. She pressed a dry little kiss to the ball of Yaz’s foot, then a wetter one along the arch. 

“Oh,” Yaz said thickly. That felt… interesting. “People don’t kiss other people’s feet, unless it’s, y’know, a… thing.” Her toes were curling against the Doctor’s side, wormed underneath the strap of one of the Doctor’s braces. The fabric of the Doctor’s t-shirt was soft against her sole. 

“A thing?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow, and she was supporting the back of Yaz’s foot with one hand, the heel cradled into the palm of her hand. She pressed a chaste little kiss to the tip of Yaz’s big toe. 

“Y’know. A thing.” _Why_ was this hot? Yaz had never given much thought to her feet in that respect. They were just… there. A part of her body that got her around when she needed to get around. She painted her toenails occasionally, if she felt like being particularly fancy, but that was about it. 

“What kind of thing?” Another kiss, to the toe next to her big toe. Were there names for all those different toes? It was weird that there were names for all the fingers, but apparently not all the toes. 

Why was she thinking about this _now_ of all times?!

“A… thing.” Yaz made a vague hand gesture, and then she gasped, as the Doctor’s hot, wet mouth closed in around her toes. 

It was the middle two toes, and the Doctor sucked on them expertly, her tongue sliding between the two digits and wriggling, the same way it slid between her labia and wriggled into her cunt. The Doctor’s teeth were gentle as they tugged, and the Doctor was sucking just hard enough for Yaz to feel it. 

“What kind of thing?” The Doctor repeated, when she pulled off.

Yaz lay there, panting, her pulse thundering in her head and between her legs.

“Y’gonna be a good girl and tell me, Yaz?” The Doctor asked, and she was smirking. The sight of that smirk was enough to make Yaz bite back a moan, as her whole body seemed to clench. “Well?” A fingertip trailing along the sole of Yaz’ foot, and Yaz whimpered, and tried not to thrash. 

“A sex thing,” Yaz mumbled. “Some blokes like feet. A lot.”

“Can’t blame ‘em,” the Doctor said. She sucked on the last two toes into her mouth, and Yaz made an embarrassing noise, then covered her mouth with both hands. She was _not_ gonna moan like she was being paid for it because her toes were being sucked. She refused.

“Yaz,” the Doctor said sharply, and Yaz opened her eyes, staring into the Doctor’s face. “Be a good girl for me and put your hands down.” She said it smoothly, confidently, and it was enough to make Yaz’s whole self melt into the bed.

“Sorry,” Yaz mumbled, and she held on to the bedclothes, balling the bottom sheet up in her fists. “I’ll be good.”

“There’s my good girl,” said the Doctor. The Doctor kept eye contact as she sucked on Yaz’s toes again, and Yaz tried not to thrash too much, tried not to make too much noise. 

So the Doctor had discovered just how heady it was, to have those words spill out of her own mouth. Yaz hadn’t realized how intoxicating it would be to hear them from the other end. 

“There we go,” the Doctor said, and she was sliding her tongue between Yaz’s toes again, then licking lower, along Yaz’s sole. “Look at you, Yaz, I can feel you quivering. Never knew you were this sensitive.” She nipped at the ball of Yaz’s foot, and Yaz made another incoherent noise. The sensation of heat and wetness and suction on her _feet_ wasn’t anything she’d ever thought of before. 

“I’m… I didn’t know either,” Yaz said plaintively, and she clutched at the sheets, her eyes squeezed shut. “This is new.” She moaned, louder than she meant to, when the Doctor’s mouth sealed around her toes again. 

The Doctor let go after almost a full minute, her lips swollen and her chin shiny with her own drool. She made a big show of licking her lips, and she pressed little kisses along the wet skin of Yaz’s foot. “I’m glad I got to be a first for you.” 

Yaz frowned. “Does that… bother you?” This was probably not the time to be having this conversation - especially when the Doctor was breathing on her toes again, and it was giving her more goosebumps. 

“What, that you’ve got more experience in your body than I do in mine?” The Doctor nuzzled her nose into the arch of Yaz’s foot, and that… was an odd sensation, but not unpleasant. Yaz curled her toes in the Doctor’s hair, and the Doctor made an amused noise. “Nah. Gotta be new at something at some point.” She held Yaz’s foot up and licked it from the heel to the tips of Yaz’s toes, which was an… odd sensation, but not unpleasant. “Just nice to turn the tables occasionally.” 

Yaz shivered, and she tugged at the Doctor’s shirt with her toes again. “I shouldn’t be surprised at you putting my toes in your mouth,” she said, her tone philosophical. “When you’re willing to put that horrible… fish stuff in as well.”

“Oi,” said the Doctor, “that was a cultural delicacy!” She tugged Yaz closer to her by the ankle, and then she was sucking on three of Yaz’s toes at once, and Yaz was losing the ability to think. She was moaning - _loudly_ \- and had she ever been this… lewd? This wanton?

“Doctor,” Yaz mumbled, “Doctor, Doctor, _Doctor_!” Her back was arching, and she desperately needed to rub her clit, to grind against something, to be filled with something, to do anything about the growing, desperate ache that was building inside of her. 

The Doctor switched feet, letting Yaz’s damp foot rest on her lap. She took the other foot, and she sucked on the big toe. She was grinning as Yaz squealed, squeezing Yaz’s calf through Yaz’s jeans with her free hand. She was sucking harder now, her cheeks hollowing out, and Yaz’s belly clenched low and deep. .

“You like using your mouth,” Yaz said, and then she was almost immediately kicking herself. That was a silly thing to say. 

The Doctor pulled off of Yaz’s toe with a wet “pop”. “I do indeed,” she agreed. “You should take your trousers off.”

“That’s awfully direct,” Yaz said, but she was giggling, her hands going to the button of her jeans.

“You like when I’m direct,” said the Doctor. “It’s simpler than faffing about.” 

The Doctor didn’t help as Yaz pushed her jeans down her legs, only letting go long enough for Yaz to kick them off. Then the Doctor’s mouth was back on Yaz’s toes again, and the fingers of her other hand were pressed between Yaz’s toes.

Yaz’s hands went to her face… and then she brought them back down on the bed. She said she’d be good. She was going to be good. She clutched at the sheets, and she arched her back, as the Doctor went back to sucking her toes. 

The Doctor bit Yaz on the foot, right where it was meaty, and Yaz keened. Her hips jerked upwards, and she squeezed her thighs together, one hand sliding down between her legs to press against the wet front of her panties. 

“None of that,” the Doctor said sharply, and she pushed Yaz’s hands away. “Be a good girl for me, Yaz, and keep your hands down. Or I’ll have to tie you to the bed.”

Yaz squeaked, and her hands were back to her sides, clutching the increasingly rumpled sheets. 

“Although that’s not a very good threat, now that I think about it,” the Doctor said, looking around the room at her bed. On the wall, the contestants of the baking show were all having meltdowns about meringue and focaccia. There was something refreshing about the fact that a baking show was a baking show, wherever you went. Was it special space meringue and space foccacia?

"Why not?" Yaz tried to come back to herself, to the conversation. She was so wet that her panties were sticking to her thighs, and every brush of the Doctor's fingers across her foot seemed to send another deep throb through her. 

"Nothin' to tie you to," the Doctor said. "My old bed had a headboard- big ol' thing, it looked like it belonged in an oil painting." She grinned, that wide sunny grin that always made Yaz grin back. "Now," the Doctor said, "those can't be very comfortable, can they?" She slid her thumbs under the waistband of Yaz’s panties, then pulled them down Yaz’s legs. 

Yaz sighed, and then flushed. “D’you want me to take my top off?” She indicated her t-shirt. 

“Much as I love your breasts,” the Doctor said, and she was spreading Yaz’s legs open wider, “there’s something… illicit about doin’ it like this.” She paused. “Is illicit the word I’m thinking of?” She had her eyes glued on Yaz’s cunt, which was no doubt slick and shiny with arousal.

“I dunno, is it?” Yaz squirmed a little, and then she shuddered, as the Doctor’s tongue slid between her toes. 

"Possibly," said the Doctor. "I'd say 'naughty,' but that sounds like the kinda thing you'd see in a certain kind of a porno." She sucked on Yaz's toes again, her eyes glued between Yaz's legs.

"Since when do you watch pornos, Doctor?" Yaz was proud of herself for getting the sentence out, as the Doctor's tongue slid along the delicate spot under her toes. 

"Research," the Doctor said absently. "This is better 'n any porno, though." She sucked again, and her fingers skated up the inside of Yaz's thigh.

Yaz's hips twitched up, and the toes of her other foot curled against the Doctor's thigh. "R-real sex usually... is," she panted out. "What research?"

"From this angle, I can see straight inside of you," the Doctor said, and that shouldn't have made Yaz clench up like that. "Every time I suck on your toes like _this_..." Another application of suction, and Yaz whined in the back of her throat, "I can see you tighten up. Makes me wish I still had a cock, a little bit. Bet it'd feel amazing." She shivered, and her eyes were dark, her cheeks flushed. "Slide my cock into you, suck on your toes, feel you get tight around me, watch your face open up..." She gave another shiver. "Yasmin Kahn, you are a _wonder_."

Yaz groaned, covered her face with both hands, then brought them back down to the bed. "Doctor," she groaned.

"Mmm?" The Doctor looked at her, with an expression that could best be described as "mild" which was not remotely fair. 

"You can't just..." Yaz made an expansive hand gesture, looking embarrassed. " _Say_ things like that." 

"Why not?" The Doctor's fingers were delicate as they stroked up and down the inside of Yaz's calf, ticklish when they hit the back of Yaz's knee. 

"You just..." Yaz groaned, flopped back onto the bed.

The Doctor grinned at her, and there were a lot of teeth in that grin. "I guess I just gotta keep my mouth occupied other ways," she said, and then she was crawling between Yaz's legs, nuzzling into the softness of Yaz's inner thigh. 

Yaz sighed, and she brought her hands down to rest on top of the Doctor's head, sifting through the soft blond hair. "You never answered my question about research, y'know," Yaz mumbled, and then she shivered, as the Doctor's tongue traced along her slit.

"You can learn a lot about a culture from their pornography," the Doctor said, and her breath was ticklish against Yaz's labia. 

"If you... oh, _Doctor_..." Yaz's heels dug into the bed, as the Doctor began to lick her. 

Yaz whimpered, and she ground into the Doctor's face, clutching desperately at the Doctor's hair. She was already getting closer, as her hips pumped forward. She threw her head back, and she panted up at the ceiling. It felt like she was expelling steam from her lungs, and the Doctor's tongue was inside of her nose, the Doctor's thumb circling against her thumb.

And then the Doctor was removing her tongue, and it was moving lower. 

"What are you _doing_?" Yaz squeaked, when she felt the Doctor's tongue probe at her asshole. She wasn't pulling away, noticeable enough. She still had her heels resting on the Doctor's ribs, and she was so slick and hot and open, her cunt pulsing in time with her heart.

"D'you not like anal?" The Doctor asked it so casually - _d'you want another custard cream, d'you want to go swimming, d'you not like anal?_

"I don't... know," said Yaz. "Never tried it."

"What, really?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry. I forget how many hangups you twenty first century humans have about your orifices." 

"I cannot believe you just said that," said Yaz. "Well, no, I can, just..." The Doctor was adjusting her, spreading her legs a little wider, then grabbing a pillow at random and putting it under Yaz's hips. 

"Just?" The Doctor was sitting up on her elbows now, and Yaz couldn't see her face, just the top of her head. Her hands were going to the cheeks of Yaz's ass, spreading it open. She was _breathing_ on it, and that was a novel sensation. 

"I... it's hard to think when you do that," Yaz said. There was breath on her asshole, and her thighs were relaxing inward. The Doctor's hair was ticklish against her inner thighs, which was sending more goosebumps up her thighs.

She was still wearing her shirt, still wearing her bra. When she looked down the line of her body, she could see her nipples poking out under the fabric. The Doctor was still fully dressed, apart from her coat, and it really did feel... illicit. Naughty, although she shied away from that word as much as the Doctor did. 

“D’you want me to stop?” The Doctor leaned back, so that she wasn’t breathing on Yaz’s more delicate parts. 

“I didn’t say that,” Yaz said quickly. “Just, uh… took a second.” She got up on her elbows, so she could look the Doctor in the face a little better. “You put a lot of unusual things in your mouth, y’know that?” 

“I don’t know if this counts as me putting something _in_ my mouth, in this case,” the Doctor said, her tone thoughtful. She grabbed the back of Yaz’s thighs, pulling Yaz closer, and then she was adjusting Yaz’s hips on the pillow, presumably for better access. “Because I’m more putting my tongue into -”

“We don’t have to go into specifics, Doctor,” Yaz said quickly. “It’s… mmm…” She trailed off, as the Doctor’s tongue traced along the rim of her asshole. 

Yaz had never really gotten the… point of anal. Sure, she had seen a few pornos, she had heard the locker room talk. But she had been pretty entertained with her cunt since she had started masturbating, and really, what was the point?

She saw the point now. 

The Doctor's tongue was flexible and hot, sliding in and out of her ass, occasionally tracing around the rim, then plunging back in. The Doctor was drooling, and the wetness was spreading across her skin, dripping onto the pillow. It was already wet with Yaz's arousal, and now more wetness. 

Yaz hadn't realized anal was quite this wet. 

It was like nothing else Yaz had ever felt, and she ended up just lying there, her hips occasionally twitching, her chest heaving. She clutched at the sheets because she couldn’t think of what else to do with her hands, and she watched the Doctor’s face. She could see the familiar frown line between the Doctor’s eyebrows, and there were quiet, wet noises.

… When had the baking show stopped? Yaz looked over at the wall, and saw that it had frozen. It was quiet in the room, apart from her own heartbeat in her head, and the wet sounds of the Doctor licking her. Had one of them paused it? Had the TARDIS decided she wanted to watch it, and paused it? 

… That was an unsettling thought. Yaz wasn’t sure how she felt about the spaceship she was living on playing voyeur. 

The Doctor’s hand came up Yaz’s thigh, and then her thumb was nudging at the entrance to Yaz’s pussy. Her index finger was circling over Yaz’s clit as her tongue circled inside of Yaz’s ass, and it was all… a lot.

_That must be hard on the wrist_ , was Yaz’s last coherent thought, and then the Doctor did… something with her tongue and something with her fingers, and Yaz’s eyes rolled back in her head. She was making embarrassing noises. She could _hear_ herself make embarrassing noises, and they were loud ones, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop them. 

The thumb inside of her was pushing down on something, and her whole body was bearing down on it. She curled her toes against the Doctor’s sides, catching in the elastic of the Doctor’s braces. She was humping the Doctor’s face shamelessly, and the Doctor was rubbing Yaz’s clit between two fingers now, and curling her thumb. It was bulging, stretching Yaz out, and it was all beyond words.

The Doctor was moaning, and her other hand was holding one of the cheeks of Yaz’s ass, holding Yaz open. She angled her neck and thrust her thumb upward at the same time, rubbing Yaz’s clit faster, slipping her tongue in deeper.

Yaz came around the Doctor’s tongue, the Doctor’s thumb. Her hips jerked forward, her heels digging into the Doctor’s sides, and she whimpered and sobbed like she was in pain. There was sweat dripping off of her body, and the Doctor was making contented noises, as she came up for air. 

“So,” said the Doctor, in a cheery tone, “I guess you have some first for me after all.”

“Looks like it,” Yaz panted. She smiled as the Doctor came up to kiss her… and then turned her head. “I am not kissing you.”

“Aw,” the Doctor said, and she was panting. “Is it because I was eating the pickled space fish?” She flopped onto the bed next to Yaz, and then she made a face, sitting up and shoving her braces off of her shoulders.

Yaz rolled off of the pillow, pressing closer to the Doctor. She pressed kisses up the Doctor’s neck, then took the Doctor’s ear in her mouth. She grinned, as the Doctor keened and arched into it. “You had your tongue inside of my arse,” she told the Doctor. “I’m an open minded woman, but even I have my limits.”

“I can go brush my teeth,” the Doctor said earnestly. She was throwing a leg over Yaz’s own, and the seam of her trousers were sticky against Yaz’s bare thigh. “If you’d like me to, I mean.” 

Yaz rolled onto her side, knee pressed between the Doctor’s. She slid a and down the front of the Doctor’s trousers, right into the Doctor’s boxers, and the Doctor sighed. She was wet against Yaz’s fingers, and her hips rolled forward, humping into Yaz's hand.

“Gonna be a good girl for me, Doctor?" Yaz crooned, her eyes on the Doctor's flushed face. "Good girl, look at how much you're enjoying yourself." She angled her wrist at the right angle, her fingers slipping inside the Doctor's cunt. It was silky and hot, squeezing Yaz's fingers tight.

" _Yaz_ ," the Doctor whined, and her hips ground forward. 

"I can feel how tightly you're squeezing me," Yaz said. The Doctor's clit was so hard under her thumb, and the Doctor's whole face was scrunching up as she got tighter around Yaz's fingers. She was like a spring being tightened. "And every time I say 'good girl' - oo, there it goes, that twitch." She leaned further forward, until she could trace the shell of the Doctor's ear with her tongue. “You just want to be my good girl, Doctor, you just want to be a good girl for me.” She curled her fingers and pressed down on the Doctor’s clit, and she kept kissing along the Doctor’s ear, then sucking on the Doctor’s ear. 

The Doctor sobbed, and her cunt squeezed Yaz’s fingers tight. Her whole face went ugly and sweet as she came, her mouth falling open and her chest heaving. The line between her eyebrows went deeper, and she was making the most _adorable_ noises, although Yaz probably shouldn’t have been finding anything cute at a moment like this, and yet... She went limp on the bed, shaking, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. When she opened her eyes again, her expression was dazed. 

“Wait a sec,” the Doctor mumbled, and she nuzzled into Yaz’s neck. Her breath was humid on Yaz’s neck. 

“Mmm?” Yaz tucked a piece of blond hair behind the Doctor’s ear, traced over it to watch the Doctor squirm. 

“You didn’t want to kiss me before we’d even gotten started,” the Doctor said, and she stretched luxuriously, then went as limp as a pile of clean laundry. “D’you not like kissing me anymore?”

“Not when you’ve been eating pickled space worms, I don’t,” Yaz said. “Brush your teeth and we’ll be good. We’ll be _great_.” 

“But _Yaz_ , if I get up to brush my teeth, then I won’t be able to cuddle you,” the Doctor pouted, and she squirmed closer, wrapping her arms around Yaz’s waist, curling around her in the center of the big round bed. 

“Mmm,” Yaz mumbled, and she didn’t let go of the Doctor’s waist. She could feel the Doctor’s lips in a grin, as her temple was kissed. 

\+ 1 Pekora

“Hello Yaz’s mum!” The Doctor said, and Yaz tried not to wince as she kept setting the table. 

“It’s Najia,” Najia said, then; “Doctor.” Yaz didn’t have to see her mother’s face to know what it looked like. She tried not to wince. 

“Thank you for inviting me for tea! Tea at Yaz’s!” The Doctor came into the flat, and there was the thump of her kicking her shoes off, to go with everyone else’s shoes beside the door. “Your home is just as lovely as I remember!”

“It was very nice of you to come visit,” Yaz’s dad said, as he set a plate down on the table. 

“Dad, didja have to make pekora?” Yaz looked down at the table, looked over at the Doctor standing expectantly in the living room to go look at the views all over again.

“They’re good,” her Dad protested. “Mrs. Levinson from down the hall says they’re wonderful.” 

“Mrs. Levinson from down the hall smokes so many cigarettes that she could eat raw sewage and she wouldn’t notice,” piped up Sonya.

“Sonya,” cut in Yaz’s mum. 

“I brought you a gift,” said the Doctor, and Yaz looked down to see. 

“It’s a seashell,” Yaz’s dad said, looking down at it. “A very nice one! Didja get it on holiday? We were thinking of going on a holiday to the beach next summer.”

“It’s not just a seashell,” the Doctor said. She stood next to Yaz, and she was practically vibrating with… something. Keenness? Anxiety? “Changes color with the temperature!”

Yaz slid her fingers into the Doctor’s, gave them a squeeze. “It’s alright,” she said quietly.

“Am I making a good impression?” The Doctor whispered, as quietly as possible. 

Yaz gave her another squeeze, then went to sit at the table. 

“We’ve already got a thermometer,” Sonya said, not looking up from her phone as she plopped into her own chair.

“Now we’ve got a nice one,” said Yaz quickly. The Doctor had sat down next to her, and she pressed her knee into the Doctor’s. 

The Doctor shot her a grateful look, and began to load her plate up. She was even taking some of the regretful pekora.

“So what have you been up to lately, Doctor?” Yaz’s dad asked, as he began to make his own plate.

“Oh, y’know, this ‘n that,” said the Doctor. 

“What is it that you _do_ , exactly?” Yaz’s mother looked at the Doctor with a skeptical expression, and the Doctor took a bite of the pekora on her plate. 

Then her expression went weird.

“You okay there, Doctor?” Yaz shot her a worried look. “I know Dad isn’t always best with the -”

“This is it,” the Doctor said with her mouth full, and she took another bite of pekora. “This is the thing! The craving!”

Yaz’s jaw dropped. “You’ve dragged me all the way through time and space to search for a craving, and it was for my Dad’s horrible pekora?!” No way. 

“What d’you mean, dragged you through time and space?” Yaz’s mum asked.

“Um,” said Yaz, and the Doctor’s hand found her leg, and gave it a squeeze. This was somehow more terrifying than any of the aliens that they’d ever run away from.

She shot the Doctor a look, and the Doctor gave her a nervous smile, and took another bite of pekora. 

“Y’see, Mum,” Yaz began, and the Doctor gave her fingers another squeeze.


End file.
